Final Trinity
by Tyramir
Summary: In all the universe there are thousands of worlds, all interconnected, and all separate. But what if something caused them to touch? Now an avatar of oblivion stalks the realms, and heroes must be called forth to stop it. Cowritten by Nisus.
1. Highwind

Author's Note:

This is a collaboration piece between Tyramir and Nisus. Neither of us own Final Fantasy. Just so you know.

* * *

There were no stars. No pinpricks of light in the endless blackness of the sky. No gleaming diamonds of brightness. No flashpoints that served as beacons of hope. There was only darkness. This was a place where stars did not exist, a place the Gods had abandoned, and where heroes feared to tread. This would be a place for despair if such a thing existed in it, for despair could not exist without joy, and joy had never once found its way to this place. 

This was the Negative Zone.

It was a simple place. Complete darkness, for no light could truly touch its emptiness. There existed only three things in the Negative Zone, and that was emptiness, monsters, and the Path.

And as Gilgamesh, four-armed warrior of the realms and appointed guardian of the fragile dimensional barrier stumbled down the Path, he wondered which one of the three groups he truly belonged to. The stone walkway that crisscrossed and curved in its expanse across the multiverse, which in fact represented the lifeline between worlds? The monsters that walked it, looking for new places to inflict their rage and blood thirst upon? Or worse, was he the emptiness, the nothingness of the Negative Zone given birth?

There were days that the former mercenary's heart felt empty. How cheated he was in his life and his ambitions, for they had been nothing but dust.

But waxing poetic and comparing himself to the Negative Zone should have been the last thing on Gilgamesh's mind, he knew. Two of his four arms clenched his stomach, which had been recently wrapped with bandages. The wound bled little, but the problem was, it wouldn't _stop_ bleeding. It refused to clot, but then, that made perfect sense, given the weapon that had inflicted the awful gash.

Another of his arms dangled at his side, broken from his recent fight, and the other clutched a sword – Excalibur –, which he used as a walking stick. Ironic that the sword that had once been his life's obsession, a killing weapon no less, now served as something to lean on as he limped down the Path.

All he had to do was make it back home. Back to the man who had given him this task, this enforced career of policing foreign worlds. Gilgamesh didn't know the man's name… didn't even know the man's face. He always appeared in the same place, though. A figure of a black-armored man, visor lowered, features distorted by shadows despite the cave he always appeared in being perpetually bathed in light. Gilgamesh always referred to him as 'the Shadow Man,' and it'd stuck.

The Shadow Man had claimed that he'd saved Gilgamesh from death, and the four-armed warrior recalled dying in battle once, even if the details were a little hazy. Something about sacrificing himself for… bah! He couldn't even remember the names of the people he'd valiantly defended to the death. But the Shadow Man claimed it, just as he claimed that now he and his people would sleep, and so their own guardianship of the realms was over. Now it was up to champions chosen by the former guardians to maintain the balance. Champions like Gilgamesh.

Shaking his head, the former mercenary realized that his mind had wandered once more. He needed to keep it on track. He needed to reach the Shadow Man, receive healing, and warn of the danger that was coming, the threat to every world that ever was.

He needed to warn of the threat of Sephiroth.

Chapter One

Highwind

Zeromus was defeated.

The creature that had threatened the world with oblivion was dead. His former ally, Golbez, was now exiled to eternal slumber on the moon alongside the rest of the Lunarians, save one. All the kingdoms had joined as one in celebration of the momentous victory. Where once there had been war, there was now cheer. Strangers welcomed each other with open arms, and were glad for the one precious fact that dominated their minds. They were alive.

King Cecil of Baron was to wed Rosa, his life's love, and for that, people were even happier. Yang had ascended the throne of Fabul, Edward of Damcyan, and Edge of Eblan. The heroes that had saved the world seemed to be taking on the reins of the world.

Cid was once more in his respected position of airship engineer of Baron, though he had many conferences with the Dwarves of the world below about new designs on anything that happened to cross his mind. Palom and Porom, the two wizardly twins, were back now in their roles of students in Mysidia, though with their experiences behind them, seemed to know more of their craft than some of their teachers.

Rydia had returned to the Land of Monsters. Edge's attempted courtship of her was obvious and clumsy, and many suspected that the ninja had in fact chased her away. Those that mattered, her friends – including Edge – knew that Rydia had returned to her home there not to run away, but merely because it was her home. If ever she chose to come back, she would do so on her terms.

And what of Kain Highwind, the mighty Dragoon?

What of him, indeed. Rumors abounded of his fate, for in the days of victory over Zeromus, Kain had disappeared entirely, without a word to his friends. And worse, Edward, ever the bard, had chosen to tell the tales of all of those who had participated in the mighty battle, leaving out no details at all. Not even those depicting Kain as a jealous man, hating the man he loved as a brother for earning Rosa's affection.

The common people, hearing of such a love triangle, had to expand it on their own. More tales were told, and possible theories as to where Kain Highwind could possibly be. Some said that at the announcement of Cecil and Rosa's wedding, Kain had taken himself to Baron's battlements and thrown himself from there. Others claimed that the Dragoon had indeed hurled himself from those stony walls, but not to his death. Instead, with his incredible jumping ability, Kain threw himself to the stars, launching himself upwards, chasing the departing moon, which had disappeared with the death of Zeromus. That particular story was given little credence, and other stories were spun. Kain challenged Cecil to a duel to the death for Rosa's love, and the Dragoon managed to nearly claim victory! Only, at the last moment, he deliberately hurled himself upon his Paladin friend's sword. Supposed witnesses to the event said that as the jealous fool died, Cecil wept, for there could be no other action in the face of such a tragedy. Other tales, spoken by more optimistic people, said that Kain was not dead, but seeking out a great treasure, some excellent wedding gift for the King and future Queen of Baron, the couple that nearly had everything. Was he on quest, perhaps, to find some magnificent thing that would forever symbolize his approval for the wedding between the two?

There were other stories, of course. There always would be. The common people were gossip-entertainers and rumormongers. If ever the truth came out of Kain Highwind's true fate, not even the most gullible would believe it.

It began on a mountaintop.

It wasn't just any random mountain, but a specific one, sought out by Kain for its reputation. It was a dangerous place, filled with treacherous cliffs and faces, and littered with monsters. Thrill seekers and would-be adventurers made the attempt to assault the mountain every year. None returned. None until Cecil had once made the trip. That was when the Dark Knight had conquered the mountain, and emerged from it a Paladin. Once of darkness, now of light.

This was Mount Ordeals.

This was the place that Kain Highwind had sought, the place where he would enter a bitter, jealous Dragoon, one who had been susceptible to the mental domination of Zemus, and exit as…. He wasn't sure what he would come out as. But whatever it was, it would probably be a better man.

And so the blond man, dressed in his magnificent blue, dragon-skin armor, stood at the top of the mountain, staring into the sunset. Beside him, his lance stood, point driven into the ground, like some defiant standard. He had made it this far. He would not back down now. But even with his back to it, he could sense a presence within the cave. Something dark and uninviting. Something terrible.

He had never shied from a task in his life before. When his father had requested that he become a Dragoon, no matter what, he had taken up the role, even when his king had demanded he train as a Dark Knight. When Cecil had asked him to once more defy their king in open rebellion, once more had Kain Highwind stepped up to the task without hesitation. And when Zemus had crept into his mind, Kain had accepted the vile intrusion, joined forces with Golbez, and struck out against Cecil, the man he dared call brother, without a second thought.

But now, as Kain stood at the top of Mount Ordeals, he found that he was now second-guessing himself. This was a place made by the Lunarians, Cecil's people, as a test for that very same Paladin. It was Cecil's trial, not Kain's, and who knew if Ordeals held anything for the Dragoon at all? What if only death awaited him, and not redemption? And even by going in, it only held to the path that was Kain's greatest fear. Always before he had been Cecil's shadow, always one step behind the other man's glory. By following the Paladin's path once more, would the Dragoon continue to be that shadow?

Putting his dragon helmet on firmly, Kain tore his lance from the ground and stepped into the cave.

As dark as it appeared from the outside, once Kain stepped in, he was nearly tempted to step out. As soon he his head entered the cave, the darkness disappeared, replaced by brilliant light. Everywhere – the floor, the ceiling, and the walls – was beautiful crystal. Not rocks jutting from the ground, but the cave itself was crafted from pure diamond. And the far wall gleamed so perfectly, was so polished, that Kain could see his own reflection in it. He immediately walked toward it, knowing what would happen. Cecil had told him this much, if no other detail. The Dark Knight had walked up to the Crystal wall, and transformed… Transformed into a Paladin, while the Dark Knight he had once been stared back at him in the mirror. Kain didn't know the entire story, but from what he had gleaned, he knew there had been some sort of battle. Was that what would happen here?

Readying his lance in both hands, the Dragoon strode to the mirror wall, warily watching his reflection seemingly approach him. When he was close enough to attack, he swung his spear about, striking the reflection. The reflection merely followed the same movement, and their attacks seemed to connect against each other. Kain's lance bounced harmlessly off the diamond-like wall.

"Only a mirror," he muttered. His head hung down, and he placed one hand on his helmeted forehead. He felt a fool. But at the same time, he felt cheated.

"Fight me!" he shouted at the mirror. "I'll prove myself! Prove everything! Prove that I can get rid of my own darkness! Prove that I'm not just a shadow! Prove that I'm bett—"

He stopped himself short, realizing he had taken his weapon in both hands once more and assumed a battle stance. Cold sweat fell down his cheeks, and he was panting. Looking more closely at the reflection, he realized there were now several small scratches in it. He'd done more than just assume a battle stance and shout at a mirror in his anger.

"Prove that you're better?" he muttered, bringing himself up short. "Better than what?"

"Why, Cecil of course."

Kain's head shot up, staring at his reflection. For a moment, a half second, he honestly expected that it had been his own image that had answered the question. After all, if Cecil's reflection had moved independently in this room, why not his own? But what he found shocked him even more.

The image in the mirror was not his own at all, but rather that of a black, shadowy figure, all garbed in armor. The details were fuzzed, blurred over, but something about it looked so hauntingly familiar…

"Who are you?" Kain demanded.

"Why, someone who understands you. Someone who understands that you will always be second best compared to the great and wonderful Cecil. But someone who has always dared dream to become something better. And dreams are all I have these days."

The voice, even though it didn't sound exactly the same, the noise being slightly distorted and echoing odd vibrations with it, was familiar.

"Golbez," the Dragoon said.

Golbez, the man who had been Zemus' chief underling. The man who had nearly ripped apart the world at another's bidding, bringing war and chaos, death and destruction. The man who was responsible for Tellah's death. The man who also happened to be Cecil's brother.

The figure bowed, and even as it did, stepped forward and outside of the mirror, emerging from the reflected wall and into the room itself.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping, alongside the rest of the Lunarians?"

Golbez chuckled, an emotionless sound with no real mirth behind it. "I am asleep. I'm not really here, just my… shade. I heard one of my servant's call, and so I came. I'm as surprised by your being here as you are of mine. Why are you here, Kain?"

"That's none of your concern."

The shadowy figure gave a gesture resembling a shrug, then stopped, pulling himself up short. "You're here for the Trial, aren't you? You follow in Cecil's footsteps. It's not for you. The Trial was never for anyone except Cecil. Not for you, and not for me. There is no redemption for us, save for what penance we give ourselves."

"I don't want redemption—" Kain started, but was interrupted by a sudden flash of light to the side. The Dragoon flung his hands up, protecting his eyes, even as what appeared to be a doorway of energy opened, and a man fell out. The light immediately faded, and even as Kain's eyes adjusted, Golbez was already knelt down and hovering over the prone form of a man with what appeared to be four arms.

"Gilgamesh!" Golbez hissed. "What has happened?"

Kain rushed to the fallen man's other side, and noticed a hastily bandaged wound around the man's chest. It was soaked in blood. Without aid, the Dragoon believed the newcomer wouldn't last long at all.

"Sephiroth…. Found a … hole… Lifestream… Farplane…"

Nodding, Golbez let out a sound resembling a deep sigh. "Rest, Gilgamesh. I understand. I will heal you."

Standing up, Golbez gestured for Kain to do the same. "Do you trust me?"

The Dragoon nearly laughed in the man's face. He hadn't the slightest idea of what was going on, but there was always one universal law, and that was never to trust a former, power-mad alien who was just as likely to blow up the world as look at you.

"No."

"Fah!" the Lunarian said disgustedly. "Forget the past. Focus on the present. I am about to give you a quick lesson in the way the universe works, Dragoon. Try to keep up. This is important."

Saying nothing, Kain allowed Golbez to continue. "The Lunarians are more than just the guardians of the elemental crystals of this world. My people are older than ancient, and our powers are beyond even my current comprehension. But in my slumber, I have learned a few things. And that is this: there is no world. Rather, there are worlds. Many worlds. Many universes. All separate, but all interconnected. They all have a few things in common, the reason for which still eludes my people. The important thing is this. These worlds are separate. They are their own places, and they are never, _ever_, allowed to touch onto each other. We used to safeguard them to ensure this would never happen, but now we sleep. In our stead, we have recruited guardians, great warriors from other realms, most lost or dying, like Gilgamesh… but they are obviously not perfect, if an error has already occurred. I can't tell you all now, but… blast it! If Sephiroth is on the loose…"

Before Kain could react, Golbez reached out, grabbing the lance from his hands. A dark energy misted out from the shadow's arms and flowed into the spear, until it glowed with a purple energy. The Dragoon snatched the weapon back, but whatever had been done had been done.

"What have you--?"

"I have temporarily imbued your lance with the power to hop dimensions. In Gilgamesh's absence, you must hunt Sephiroth down. Be warned, he is dangerous, and I can only assume it was due to Gilgamesh's arrogance that he was injured in this way. He should be back on his feet within the hour, but I need others for this. Do not confront Sephiroth alone. I have given you the names and locations of allies, people with fighting experience, and the… mindset that you have chosen for yourself. People who have committed past crimes tend to fight harder to redeem themselves."

"And if I don't want to perform this task?"

Golbez continued, ignoring Kain entirely, "You will find four allies with your lance. You can only teleport so many times, so use it wisely, and take _no one_ with you that you don't have to. I will heal Gilgamesh, and as soon as he is ready, he will help you in this battle in his own way. When you arrive at your destination, think of your ally while holding your lance. It will do the rest."

"I have agreed to nothing!" Kain said.

Golbez made a dismissive gesture, and the Dragoon felt a pulse of energy fill his lance. The world began to blur, melting away. Even as he disappeared from the crystal cave, he heard the Lunarian say contemptuously, "Think of this as your Trial."

Everything turned white, and the Dragoon had the sensation of melting away like wax. He felt just a smear on the universe, a small drop of water that was being spread across a long surface.

And then it was over, and he stood in the midst of a forest, on top of a hill. He glanced about, holding up his weapon defensively, but saw no immediate enemies. The sun was just setting, as it was back home. Wherever he was didn't appear too differently from his own world. At least he was still alive.

_And what will I do now?_ Kain thought bitterly. _Am I on another world now? How far am I from home?_

When he had climbed Mount Ordeals, he had expected a Trial. Instead, he had received an adventure, one he barely understood. All he knew was that someone or something named Sephiroth was a danger to everything, and it would have to be stopped. There was only one thing to do.

Kain held up his lance and concentrated, thinking of what an ally would look like. Immediately he pictured a tall, thin man, all garbed in black. His clothes were skin-tight, and in his hands were a pair of daggers. Tucked in a sash-like belt were a number of shuriken.

_Shadow._

Kain didn't know where the thought came from, but without a doubt, he knew this ninja's name would be Shadow. He focused harder, and felt a strong pull-like sensation to the west.

Resting his lance on his shoulder, Kain walked into the sunset, heading west, towards his first challenge, his first test, his first ally.


	2. A Meeting

Author's Note (Tyramir): To answer a question put forth by Jaysinya; Zemus is the correct name of the villain of FFIV. However, at the very end, he changes into Zeromus, the absolute embodiment of oblivion (as per the norm in a lot of FF games). So, during the course of their adventures, Cecil, Kain and company battled against Zemus' schemes, but they ultimately defeated Zeromus. Hope that clears things up a bit.

Chapter Two

A Meeting

Silence. Darkness stretched across the landscape, blanketing everything in a cloud of obscurity, the stars peeking through the low cloud cover that smothered the sky. The hills, themselves covered in long grass, were uncaring as to what happened on them, as what were the conflicts and problems of humanity to the earth? Humans were like grains of sand on a beach; unrecognisable from one another, and gone once the tide washed them away. And so in this manner, the hills were uncaring as to the nature of the events unfolding on a small patch of land nestled against a steep cliff face of rock jutting from one of the formations of dirt.

However, this was not true of a certain patch of grass, a good distance from said area of the landscape. This mound of flora was very aware of the events which were about to unfold, and in fact were focussed completely on them. The grass rustled as if self aware; of course, the grass was not aware, but the figure the grass was attached to was very much so. A long, metallic object lay nestled against the figure, aiming towards the land they were so focussed on. A sniper rifle.

Three figures walked out of the small cabin, magnified through the scope of the rifle. Two figures wore masks, probably old Galbadian issue. The other msn's breath clouded on the freezing night, chuckling silently at something or another. The figure holding the rifle snorted softly, his own breath fogging slightly from under the grass.

"Laugh away. I've got you right in my sights," he whispered as the crosshairs of the scope drifted over the man's heart. The three had now descended into animated conversation, one of the mask wearing figure's arms flailing wildly through some kind of disagreement.

"Good job you're not that emotionally articulate, I might have a problem telling you too apart with those stupid masks you're wearing."

The three had calmed somewhat and the calmer figure was obviously leading the discussion, his hands moving up and down gently as he must have been speaking. The man without a mask gazed at him intently, while the other seemed disgusted with what was being said; hands on hips, posture defiant. The scope swung to the right slightly.

"Ooo, more punters join the party. If you're not careful you might actually need me. Isn't that weird…you, _needing_, me."

Back on the three original men, the calmer mask wearer shot a look directly into the scopes sight, looking almost aggravated. The other two watched as ten or twelve men climbed out of the two vehicles that had just pulled into the small compound. A small table had been erected, and one of the men was carrying a briefcase to it.

"So like, what's the deal with this stuff, anyway?"

The calmer man gave an almost imperceptible shrug, and walked to join the other two standing around the table. The crosshairs drifted to hovering over the maskless man's heart as the group of new arrivals horded around the briefcase carrier.

The calmer man started another conversation with the man who was obviously running business, and who lay on the crosshairs of the sniper rifle. He looked very serious, and very boring as he explained something that was obviously very important to the men gathered around the fold out table, but was equally obviously boring to the sniper.

"Come on, let's hurry this up. I'm freezing my ass off out here."

Another minute display of emotion, this time exasperation; however he covered it well by stepping forward and gesturing to the briefcase carrier. He looked at the leader of the meeting who nodded, and the briefcase was duly set on the dull surface. After a moment the calm man gestured again, and with some reluctance and a moments hesitation spoke to the man at the table. The briefcase snapped open.

"Doesn't look like much from here," muttered the sniper, and this sentiment was obviously shared between the participants of the meeting. The maskless man nodded to the briefcase handler, who took out of the briefcase a very small, very shiny, very green stone. He walked a short distance from the others and then turned back to face them.

"Watch yourself, Squall," warned the sniper just as the man holding the stone moved quickly. The crosshairs flashed across the compound to make their mark but the man had already made his move. A heavy looking object had been thrown into the air, and the man holding the stone had pointed said object towards it; the object exploded in a burst of fire, scattering dust across the compound.

"Woah," whispered the sniper, a reverence shared by the group of people in the compound. They watched the dust settle for a moment, and then the man in charge started talking again, looking very pleased with himself.

"Okay, Squall," said the sniper, tightening his grip on the trigger of the rifle. "Just let me know when you want me to make my…"

He stopped talking as a small, hard, metallic object pressed into the back of his skull.

"…Shit."

* * *

In the compound, within his mask, Squall closed his eyes and sighed inwardly. If Irvine had just shut up for two minutes…Not that that was any indication of success. He might've gotten performance anxiety again. Russo, the maskless man, was talking to the assembly.

"…Ten million gil."

The other man, who had insisted on remaining anonymous, made a disgusted sound at the price of this stone, but Squall recognised it as a gross misvalue of the item in the briefcase.

A stone that could make magic possible for everyone outside the minority of one that was the Sorceress without having to draw it from a monster. Such an item was beyond any price, especially a paltry ten million.

He observed Russo closely, watching for any indication of deceit, but could see none. Either he was so stupid he couldn't recognise the stone for the priceless item it was, or he had set that price because he knew who he was dealing with; petty thugs like the anonymous man standing opposite Squall.

This operation was very dangerous and very illegal; no-one outside a select few even knew what he and Irvine were doing, let alone where they were, so if anything went wrong they were truly on their own.

"Ten million? This is worth three million, being generous."

Squall rolled his eyes. How did people like him achieve any level of responsibility in the world?

"My friend," said Russo. "This item is worth far more than that; in fact, I would go so far as to say it was priceless. However, all I want to do is rid myself of it before people who want it a lot more than you do come looking for it, and all I want is the money to live out the rest of my life, safe from those people. This meeting is so remote that unless you go waving it about everywhere, it'll be untraceable. We will have never seen this stone," he said with great emphasis. "So what I'm saying is…ten million, or just leave and save ours and your time."

He stared at Russo for a few minutes, then nodded minutely. Russo turned to Squall.

"What about you, happy with the price?"

Squall shrugged and then nodded.

"Good. Obviously we only have one stone and two interested buyers, so what I suggest is we either enter into an auction or you find another means of disposing of the competition."

Squall immediately caught a glance from the other masked man. This was the part where he attacked Squall, but got shot down by Irvine. With the knowledge a sniper was watching over them, everyone would calm down considerably and get on with the bidding. However, Irvine was currently predisposed and Squall didn't have time to think of a plan B.

"So?" asked the other man. Squall was surprised; he was being given an option about it. He considered his response carefully.

"I think…"

"Wrong!" exclaimed the other, producing a pistol and pointing it to Squall's head. Great, a comedian.

"Any last words?"

Purely on instinct, he told the other man exactly what he would be doing if their roles were reversed.

"Why are you pointing the gun at me, when you could shoot Russo and take the stone for nothing?"

A full three seconds passed before the pistol swept across to the auctioneer, who had taken the time to remove himself from the field of play. Squall threw himself to the ground as the two armed firing squads – one for Russo, and one for the masked man – faced each other, bringing their weapons to bear.

Weapons fire exploded around Squall, who involuntarily rolled into a ball to protect himself from the bullets tearing the ground and the building he lay next to to shreds. There was a sudden moment of silence, and he wondered if it was all over.

"Russo!" called the masked man from the other side of the compound. There was no reply but a short burst of gunfire. Squall propped himself against the wall after quickly scanning himself for injury, finding none, and swiftly prodded his head around the corner to assess the area for risks.

A split second after he withdrew his head, the ground next to his foot exploded with a force that could only have been caused by a sniper rifle. His first thought was that Irvine had somehow gone insane, or gotten the jitters again (both equally credible possibilities when related to Irvine), however with a quick assessment the trajectory of the bullet meant that either Irvine had very quickly moved to the other side of the compound or there was another sniper up in the darkness; the second being the most probable likelihood.

More shots cracked from the hills, no doubt felling a number of either contingent. Squall lay onto his stomach and leopard-crawled to the other side of the building, hoping to cut off Russo, and also hoping he was still in possession of the powerful stone. Waiting for another shot from the hills to sound he then catapulted forward to the cover of the next structure, closing in on Russo and his team. He turned the corner and came face to face with the man, who was trying to sneak from the area using the same route Squall had taken to sneak _in_.

Squall immediately slammed Russo against the wall. "Where is it?" he snarled.

Russo drew in a breath to reply, but the sniper fired off another shot – Russo collapsed to the ground as Squall leapt back subconsciously. He ran back around the corner, gaining precious cover from the sniper. He peeked through a gap in the decrepit wall and saw the briefcase lying opened next to the displaced table. The masked man had taken cover behind one of the vehicles and was clearly very seriously considering making a run for the stone. Silence descended upon the compound once again, the last of the sniper and gun fire echoing into the distance.

The masked man regarded his surroundings, then called, "Squall! I know you're still here – you're too stubborn to die in a petty skirmish like this! What say you come out and we can discuss this peaceably!"

Squall decided that there was little chance of that happening, but needed that stone badly. He felt a sudden rush of anger towards the political trouble which had forced him to come here accompanied only by Irvine rather than the entire military population of the Garden. If it had been up to him, the stone would have been halfway back to Balamb by now, being preliminarily analysed as they went. But, with the "sensitive nature" of the mysterious stone, the fewer people who knew about it the better, apparently. And by extension, the greater the risk to his life.

"Alright!" he called out.

"Don't do anything stupid, Squall."

Squall raised his hands above his head and stepped out into the compound. "Okay. You can just leave with the stone. I don't care what you do with it."

He kneeled slightly taller against the vehicle. "I know you're one of the ones who were following our host for the evening!"

Squall sighed, forgetting about the less than mediocre intelligence of his counterpart, as if he was worthy of that title.

"Why would I be? You were the one who drew your weapon, and for all I know that's your sniper up on the hill." He knew it wasn't, judging by the way the man was acting, but it suggested it wasn't his sniper either, and so made him more sympathetic to the other guy.

He seemed to consider this, then gestured. "Come on."

Squall faltered slightly, then started forward, expecting some kind of action against him.

There was an action, but it was more wide spread than simply affecting him.

One of the armoured vehicles exploded in a massive fireball.

Squall retreated to the cover of his wall, while the masked man's retinue vaporised. The nameless man was strewn in the centre of the compound when Squall checked from his cover. After a brief moment he was on his feet, ready to race for cover.

A bullet erupted in his path.

He turned to run to Squall's broken building, but another bullet stopped him. Every direction he turned, the sniper stopped him. Squall's lip turned in distaste. This man wasn't being killed.

He was being toyed with.

Eventually the man without a name stopped in the centre of the compound, turning to face the approximate location of the sniper. A last act of defiance.

The tension was palpable. Squall hated the sniper because of what he had done. This was purely a malicious killing. Death was a fact of Squall's line of work, but no-one deserved a drawn out killing like this. This had turned into an execution.

The sniper finally fired, the shot echoing off the hills. Squall jumped and ducked back behind the wall on reflex as it happened, the event had been built up so much.

Another shot ricocheted around the dimness beyond the lit compound. Squall came to the realisation of what had happened a split second before he received confirmation.

"_The sniper's down,"_ came Irvine's voice from the small speaker in his ear. All of the camaraderie from earlier on had left his voice.

Squall looked out from his cover. The nameless man was no longer standing in the courtyard…but his body wasn't lying on the floor like Squall expected. Senses on fire, he leopard-crawled forward slightly, but the man was nowhere to be seen.

Irvine bounded down the closest hill after a few moments observation, deciding the compound was finally secure.

Secure was a relative term; the first vehicle still billowed smoke and the fire would rage for hours. The sniper must have fired on the vehicles fuel tank.

Irvine nodded to Squall, who returned the gesture. Then, he lifted the helmet over his head and breathed the country air which was only slightly tainted with the acrid smoke. He looked up at the sniper.

"Let's see what all this fuss was about."

They paced to the briefcase which lay discarded on the ground. Irvine leant down to pick it up.

Some movement, some slight signal of danger alerted Squall to shout a warning to Irvine, whose reflexes, being a sniper, were so finely tuned he could instantly roll out of the way with the case. That was the only thing that saved Irvine from being the sniper's next victim.

Irvine launched the briefcase across the gap between the shell of the truck and the low wall Squall crouched behind, and brought his rifle to survey the hills as Squall caught the case.

Then began a deadly waiting game between the two snipers. If the sniper on the hill fired, Irvine would be able to pinpoint the position, and given enough time the sniper on the hill could find Irvine in his new hiding place, although he was well camouflaged against the truck.

After what seemed an eternity, Irvine waved Squall forward. While Squall doubted Irvine at times, he trusted him enough to vouch it was safe, and besides – he was ready for this assignment to end.

He ran forward onto the hill, to where he thought the sniper was located. He heard Irvine scramble up after him. A few adrenaline pumped moments later, he arrived at a discarded sniper rifle.

He threw a questioning glance at Irvine, who sickeningly nodded to an area just behind Squall. When he looked, he saw the sniper.

The sniper, who had almost been torn apart.

Irvine stood, shocked at the brutality of the murder before him. Squall noted how even in these warlike conditions, if a killing was brutal enough it became murder; while in the civilian world even accidental death was enough to convict someone for several years.

More collected than Irvine, he stooped to examine the ravaged corpse of the sniper.

"You shot him in the arm?"

He had to turn around to see Irvine's mute nod.

"I've never seen anything like this," Squall continued, scrutinizing the devastated body. "It looks bad, but…there are only four wounds I can make out. Plus the bullet wound."

"Four?" asked Irvine, incredulously. Squall had already phased out his surroundings in his examination.

Four wounds, each peculiar in its own way. One gushed blood even though the body had been dead far long enough to be completely drained of blood at the rate it was leaving the body. In a startling contrast, another was completely devoid of blood; not a drop exited the wound. The third gash had impaled the sniper through his shoulder; however his entire arm, on further inspection had completely shattered. It was like something had pulverised the bone from the man's shoulder, travelling further down the arm; but Squall could find no evidence of this, just the stab wound.

The fourth wound was most peculiar in that it wasn't strange at all. However, Squall was struck with the impression that that gave this wound the most emphasis; and the more he thought about it, the more he had the impression that this wound had been the most deadly. The other three were agonisingly painful and they certainly would have heard the sniper screaming in pain for at least a minute before he'd passed out from blood loss or shock. But there had been total silence between the time they'd been fired upon and their ascent up the hill. It was entirely possible that this wound could have been the one to kill the sniper instantly…but the man's neck and spine were intact, and Squall wouldn't ordinarily have said it was a fatal injury.

He realised he had been analysing the body of the broken man for too long; they were exposed here. He stood and started walking down the hill.

"Come on, we need to go."

Irvine nodded dumbly, rifle held loosely by his waist. "What did this?"

Squall looked back. "Nothing human." He regarded the grisly scene for a second more before he turned back to Irvine. "We have four mysteries now"

"Four? Why that number again?" said Irvine, visibly blanching from the thought of the corpse behind them. "I only count two – what's that stone, and who killed that guy?"

"There are two more – who wanted the stone from Russo so badly that he'd risk _this,_ and who was the second bidder?"

"Like, why's that important?"

Squall huffed at himself, annoyed he hadn't picked up on it earlier. "Because he knew my name, and this was all supposed to be anonymous."

"Woah…"

They continued walking in silence for a few more moments.

"We need to get back to the Garden."

"Hey hey hey…we can't go back if the other guy knew who you were, that'll be where they're waiting for you."

"We can't stay here," retorted Squall.

"Well, yeah, but we can't go anywhere someone would be looking for you."

Squall sighed. As much as he hated it, Irvine was right. Where was the last place anyone who was surveilling him think to look? He hated to think of where he'd end up if Irvine had any say in the matter but he wouldn't be able to think of a location on his own.

"Come on, we'll think as we go."

Irvine nodded an affirmative and headed to retrieve the briefcase from where Squall had stashed it on his mad scramble up the hill. "Wouldn't want to forget this."

Squall clambered into the remaining truck as Irvine trotted to the passenger door. The vehicle rumbled to life after Squall tweaked some wires beneath the wheel. Soon, the truck had vanished into the night, leaving the massacre behind it.


	3. Garamonde

Ganta was bored.

As usual, he had the night shift guarding the entrance to the Farplane alongside Varra. Varra was a slow man. Slow in the head. He didn't appreciate Ganta's fine wit, or his excellent tricks. Although Ganta despised calling his talent 'sleight of hand' tricks. It was a definite art, bordering on magic. The young Guado warrior was rather proud of his dexterity, and frequently tried to apply a little bit of panache to his swordplay as a result.

But sitting on the enormous tree branch, larger than most city roads, as a guard on duty to protect the Farplane was a miserable job. The thought of all those dead people just on the other side of the misty portal was gloomy at best, and the utter lack of activity was dull. Oh, how Ganta longed to be out in the field somewhere. He resented having been too young to have fought alongside Maester Seymour. Sure, the man had been a twisted, evil, son of snake, but at least he'd temporarily brought glory to the Guado people! Drawing his sword, Ganta made a few mock swings, as if he were battling a mighty Ronso on the slopes of Mount Gagazet.

"Put that thing away," Varra, the guard standing on the other side of the portal, said.

Varra was a thick-set Guado, an unusual trait for his normally slim species. How Varra had managed to get muscle and fat was beyond Ganta, but he suspected his partner ate more than his share of food, and some of it that fatty exotic stuff the Hypellos liked to peddle.

"I'm just playin'!" Ganta protested, giving another flourish of his blade.

"You aren't getting paid to play around. You're getting paid to stand tall, shut up, and watch the gate to the Farplane."

Stopping his swinging, the slim Guado let out a loud huff. He refused to put his blade away, though, and held it out determinedly. Varra might be more experienced than he was, but he refused to let _that_ get in the way of his fun. Driving the point of his sword into the ground as hard as he could, he decided to try to strike up a conversation, despite the utter futility of it. Varra tended to be close-mouthed.

"So, you hear about Lady Yuna?"

Varra just glanced at the sword with its point driven into the living tree pathway they stood on and muttered, "Bloody fool's gonna dull his sword on the tree sap."

"I hear she's getting married! Isn't that great? Too bad it's not to Maester Seymour, eh?"

A sudden pain filled the side of Ganta's face, and his head felt like it spun for a moment. He shook himself, then glared balefully at his partner. Varra, slow as he normally was, had managed to strike Ganta before he'd even seen the blow coming!

"Don't say that rotten name," Varra growled. "You invoke that name so close to the Farplane…? What are you trying to do? Summon the devil himself?"

As if to give credence to the claim, the misty portal to the Farplane began to coalesce. Varra bit back a curse and stumbled back, beginning to draw his sword.

It never cleared its scabbard.

A black and silver blur erupted through the portal, a metallic gleam darting in front of it. Before the figure could even land on the ground, a splash of blood erupted from Varra's midsection, striking Ganta in the face.

"Se—Se—Se—" the young soldier stammered, trying to pull his sword from the ground.

But the figure in front of him was not Seymour. The face was similar, with its handsome and gentle features, and the eyes were an amazing glowing green. His hair was silver, and instead of blue robes, he wore a coat of darkest black.

Before Ganta could even truly register the threat of the sword, so terrified he was, the blade flashed forward, and the soldier found it difficult to breathe. There was no pain. Just a sudden feeling of choking on some unknown fluid.

"Sephiroth," the strange man said, finishing Ganta's stuttering for him.

The man jerked, and there was a feeling of something being pulled from Ganta's throat. The boy fell down, collapsing as if he had no strength to support himself. Even as he fell, he reached for his sword, still trying to pull it from the ground where he'd driven it.

"You really shouldn't have done that," a condescending voice said. "It will dull the blade."

Chapter Three

Garamonde

No matter how far one traveled across the world, a port city, no matter what name and lifestyle it held to, would always be the same. Nikeah stank of sea salt, dead fish, and garbage. It was if by seeing the ocean, people had an irresistible urge to dispose of their trash in the most expedient and laziest way possible – by throwing it into the water. Unfortunately for them, and every person who had ever lived in a port city, all garbage disposed of in such a manner always inevitably returned with the coming tide.

Sailors strode across the docks, some working hard at moving crates about, cargo for various merchant vessels, while others leaned back and laughed with their shipmates, or headed to the nearest tavern. Even with the sun high up, many of those shipmen would be drunk within the hour.

Cyan Garamonde, standing in front of a ship that had just docked, shifted his sword belt once more, feeling almost uncomfortable with it on. It had been a year since he'd worn it, and while he normally felt at one with his weapon, today it felt foreign and strange. He wore it now only as a decoration, something to symbolize what he had once been. He wasn't really a warrior anymore. He was just a simple man, living his life out with a simple woman named Lola. And at the age of fifty-two, he wasn't quite feeling up to any new adventures.

Not that any were forthcoming. It'd been a full year since Kefka had been defeated, and everyone seemed to be faring well. Edgar and Sabin were well in Figaro, both competing with each other for Terra's affections. Setzer had inevitably found a way to make money off of 'the World of Ruin' by exploiting the world's only airship into a way to freight displaced people and property back to where it belonged. Umaro and Mog were comfortable in Narshe, and Locke and Celes were enjoying their honeymoon at an undisclosed location. For the past four months. But Cyan kept getting mail from them, so that at least indicated they were still alive, albeit distracted with each other. Gau had returned to where he was happiest – the Veldt – and stayed there. And then there were the other two members of their little cadre. The two who had disappeared. No one had been particularly surprised at Gogo's disappearance, everyone knowing that the Mimic had only joined to fight Kefka, and nothing more. But Shadow… Shadow's disappearance had troubled everyone greatly, for the only remains of him that had been found were his pet dog, Interceptor, and nothing else.

Shaking his head, Cyan dismissed the thought. He had never particularly liked Shadow. The man was honorable when being honorable was convenient, and loyal to little but money. He cleared his mind of the mercenary, and focused instead on his new love. Lola had opted to stay behind at their home in Maranda. While Cyan had spoken of returning to the ruins of Doma, the woman who had claimed his heart hadn't wanted to leave her own home. And so Cyan had relented, letting the tomb of his former home remain just that.

The ship's gangplank lowered, and before it had even fully touched the ground, the form of a twelve-year-old girl scampered down the wooden length, leaping the last few feet and onto the paved ground. She ran to him, an exuberant smile on her face.

"Cyan!" Relm called.

A moment later, she was flying through the air, hurtled by her own enthusiasm, and landed soundly in his arms. He gave a wry chuckle and spun her about, then placed her on the ground.

"It's good to see thee, Lady Relm."

The girl stamped one foot imperiously on the ground and crossed her arms. "You're not still doing that, are you?"

"To what art thou referring?" the samurai asked, bewildered.

"She's talkin' about the way you talk! All the damned 'thee's and 'thou's. Y'should consider droppin' a couple of 'em and talkin' like the rest of us for a change!"

Cyan glanced up from the girl, his smile spreading wider. Strago, the crotchety old Mage Knight, appeared just as frazzled and unkempt as ever. The man was a mass of bones and wrinkles and tufts of hair, with a look of supreme frustration ever locked on his face.

"Well met, Sir Strago!" Cyan called. "Art thou ready to find a worthy vessel so that we might travel to Narshe for the upcoming reunion?"

The old man snorted as he stumped down the gangplank. "Reunion ain't for another two weeks! We can take our time, and my old bones need a rest. All this travel isn't good for an old man like me. Probably isn't good for an old man like you, either."

Cyan kept his smile on as best he could, but he knew Strago was right. He was getting close to the age where he should focus on settling down, not running around the world to meet old friends while dressed in archaic armor. Even if running around the world was much more fun.

"Where is Interceptor?" Cyan asked, inquiring about the dog Relm had adopted in the absence of its former master.

"Don't you change the subject," Strago said. "I need some rest. A day in an inn, with some nice warm meals. No skimpin' out, either. I want a big room, with big windows, and a great view, and I want some pretty lookin' maids tendin' to my old bones. And you're payin' for it all, too! I wouldn't be here if not for yer wheedlin' letters! Askin' me to come to a reunion! Bah!"

A bark sounded, and Cyan looked up to the ship, Strago turning around to do the same. The largest dog Cyan had ever seen bounded down the steps, barking all the while and… wagging his tail? In all his days, Cyan had _never_ seen Interceptor wag his tail.

"Interceptor!" Relm called.

The dog ignored her and ran right past her and into the town, leaving a trail of frightened villagers jumping out of his wake.

"Oh bother," the little girl muttered.

"What--?" Cyan asked, but couldn't find a way to finish that thought. What _had_ gotten into that dog? It almost seemed… happy.

"We better go get that blasted mutt before it eats someone," Strago declared, them began stumping in the direction Interceptor had gone, leaning heavily on his cane and muttering under his breath.

Cyan nodded dumbly, and soon the three of them found themselves in front of a fair-sized inn at the edge of town. It appeared to have been built in the past couple of months, and from the sounds within, seemed to be doing good business. A simple sign swung outside the door reading, "Clyde's."

"Do you think the dog hast entered this establishment?" the samurai asked.

Pointing his cane at the still shaken people outside of the building, Strago grunted, "If it ain't in here, then I'm a dancin' chocobo!"

Cyan walked through the door, and the other two followed, stopped, and stared. Interceptor sat on top of a man in the middle of the room, furiously licking at his face, all the while the man shouted various obscenities and vague threats about what he'd do to the blasted dog once he got free. Interceptor, however, seemed to have a different idea about that. Each front paw was firmly entrenched into the man's shoulders, pinning him down and not letting him up.

"Interceptor!" Relm called, and the dog stopped, looked up, then reluctantly got off the poor man and trotted over to his mistress, head held low, but tail still wagging furiously. "What's gotten into you?"

The man who had been the unfortunate victim of the 'attack' stood slowly, wiping his face with his sleeve. He was an ordinary man, plain in almost every way possible. Plain brown hair and eyes. Plain features. Plain, brown clothes. Slightly taller than average, and slim. There wasn't a thing about him that was imposing, but the way he moved, the way he held himself, alarms began ringing in Cyan's head. This was a dangerous man, whoever he was.

Strago began to make a strangling noise, and Cyan turned to glance at him. The man was visibly seething, his face red, a vein protruding from his forehead. He was holding his cane up, a death grip on it.

"What's the matter, Gramps?" Relm asked.

The old man shook himself, the tension in his face fading, but still he stared menacingly at the man Interceptor had tackled. "It's… nothing. It was… rude of Interceptor to accost this man."

The man in question strode to meet them, his first step a hesitant one, but the following ones quick and purposeful.

Cyan stepped to the front of the group, between himself and Interceptor most importantly, and began to apologize. "We art filled with woe that the girl's beloved dog accosted your personage, good sir. If possibly, we could—"

The man cut him off, acting as if he hadn't heard the words at all. "Welcome, travelers. My name is Clyde. I run this inn."

Even though his words were friendly, as if he'd forgotten the incident with the dog already, his tone was not. It was as if the words were forced, and he wasn't used to speaking in such a way.

"Yeah!" Relm said. "We want rooms. Three of them. The biggest you've got."

"And a meal," Strago said. "You do serve food in this dump, right?"

"Of course," Clyde answered. "Please, take a table, and I'll see to it that meals are brought to you."

Before any of them could respond, Clyde spun on his heel and departed swiftly from the common room and into the kitchens, the door slamming shut behind him. Once seated, Relm demanded, "What was that all about, Gramps?"

"Yes, prithee, tell us what you know of this man," Cyan urged, wanting to know the meaning behind the old man's previous reaction.

Strago just grumbled to himself, shaking his head. "Mistaken identity. Thought he was someone else at first. Reminded me of a vagabond I once knew."

When pressed, the old man refused to answer either the samurai or the little girl. Food arrived shortly after, a dinner of well-cooked roast beef, with a side of vegetables, all covered in gravy and a few spices that weren't identifiable to Cyan's nose.

The three talked as they ate, telling stories of what each had done since Kefka's defeat. Apparently Strago had led a rather quiet existence since then, but Relm was now sought after by many for her infamous painting skills. If the girl plied her trade well, she would have enough money to retire if she so wanted by the time she was an adult. Cyan spoke briefly of his romance with Lola, following the old adage that one shouldn't kiss and tell. All while they spoke, Clyde seemed to hover between tables, never truly close to their table, but close enough that he could hear their words. Cyan took note of it, and made up his mind to get Clyde alone at a later date to find out about the man's curiosity.

It was at that moment that he realized he was being watched. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably, and casually glanced at a table across the room, where a man all dressed in curious looking blue armor sat alone. His helm was shaped as a dragon's, and the upper half of his face was completely covered by it, giving him the appearance that he was half-dragon. The man was sipping at a foaming mug, and staring straight at Cyan. The samurai narrowed his eyes, then realized it wasn't him that was being stared at by the stranger. Following the man's gaze, he saw that the stranger was in fact staring at Clyde.

Letting his gaze cross the rest of the room, he soon realized that the armored warrior wasn't the only one watching Clyde. A group of well-armed men were also watching him, trying to be discrete but failing miserably at it. The whole lot of them seemed to be riffraff and ruffians, except one… a man in a fancy coat, with a rapier. Something about him seemed familiar, but the samurai couldn't quite place it. Another part of the mystery.

"It has been a long day," Cyan suddenly announced, loudly enough to be heard by Clyde. "I think that I shalt find some rest amidst what comfort this inn can offer."

Relm looked about to protest, but Strago waved her down, saying; "There'll be plenty more time to catch up with him on the journey to Narshe."

Cyan left the table, and asked one of the serving women where his room was. Once there, he stripped himself of his traveling cloak and pack, laying them by his bed. Then, he pulled his sword from its scabbard, and inspected it calmly. Once certain that it was in fighting condition, the samurai took it up, cleared all the furniture in the room to the outer edges, and began to practice his forms in the small space.

The forms were more than second nature to him. They were part of his life, who he was, what he had once been. Even if he hadn't used them in almost a year, the movements of the blade, the hands, the feet, the shoulders, the waist, and so many other subtleties came back to him instantly. But still, he was getting on in his years, and he found that even as he moved, the movements weren't as quick as they had once been. The spring wasn't quite as sharp, the turn of the blade not as blindingly fast. Even so, he continued.

Hours later, when night fell and the inn's patrons had either gone in search of their own homes or their rented beds, Cyan emerged from his room, ready to do battle. The innkeeper Clyde was a mystery, one that the samurai intended to solve.

Cyan, stepping lightly on the floorboards, made his way around the inn, looking for an sign of its innkeeper, hoping the man hadn't retired early. Normally, an innkeeper was the last to go to bed, and the first awake in his establishment, usually relying on quick naps throughout the day to keep him well rested. The samurai hoped that would be the case in this instance.

He did a quick tour of the inn that was open to guests, not entering any of the guest rooms or the kitchens. He was about to give up entirely when he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye outside one of the front windows. Striding to the front door, Cyan opened it and exited in the cold night, then stopped as he felt bared steel against his throat.

"Explain yourself," Clyde hissed from beside the door. "And do so quickly."

_Explain myself indeed_, Cyan thought ruefully. He wasn't even sure he had an explanation for himself. He momentarily considered shoving himself backwards, away from the knife, and fighting from there, but there was something about that voice that Clyde had just used, as if it were the way he naturally spoke. And not just that, but something about it seemed strangely familiar…

And then it all clicked into place. The way the man moved, the way Interceptor had reacted upon getting his scent, the height, the build, the voice, the way he seemed so uncomfortable around people and yet surrounded himself with them anway…

"Sir Shadow!" Cyan cried. "Is that thee? We have…"

He stopped himself short as Clyde lowered the knife, the man letting loose a stream of swear words. "Of all the… I thought the old man had me figured out, or maybe the girl, but you? I almost feel insulted."

"What is wrong, Sir Shadow? Why art thou here, and not with thine companions as thou shouldst be? We have all worried, and for no good reason, I assure thee!"

"Stop saying that name!" Clyde nearly shouted. "That's an unpopular name, from old times, and should't be uttered here. Didn't yousee the men watching me earlier?"

When Cyan nodded, Shadow continued, "Bounty hunters, at least, the unprofessionals were. I don't know who the man with the lance was, but whoever he was, he's dangerous. I want no part of him, and as long as the world believes Shadow is dead, then I am relatively safe."

"Relatively?"

"Never mind that. What do you want?"

"I just… I'm not sure. Dost thou need help? Surely I can help thee chase off these miscreant bounty hunters and—"

"I fight my own battles. Now, if there's nothing else?" Shadow made a gesture to the inn, and Cyan, disgusted by Shadow's typical rudeness, began to turn away when a new figure emerged from the darkness.

It was the blue-armored man from earlier, carrying a lance in one hand, holding his helmet in the other. His face now exposed, Cyan could see that the man was relatively handsome, a man in his late twenties, possibly early thirties.

"And you would be Shadow, I presume?" the man asked, looking to Clyde.


	4. Cowboys and Idiots

Chapter Four

Cowboys and Idiots

"So, Squally," asked Irvine pleasantly. "Just what are we going to do now?"

Squall scowled at him as best he could in his current position, but the manoeuvre failed abysmally.

They sat, back to back and handcuffed, on the side of the main road to Timber while some of the local law enforcement officers – five of them, to be exact – closely examined the burned and charred remains of the vehicle they had used to travel from the scene of the massacre.

They were having a considerable lack of success – there wasn't much left of the vehicle.

"Irvine," said Squall as levelly as he could manage, "The next time you want to test out a magical stone that we don't know how to use, could you wait until we aren't in a moving vehicle and being chased by three other cars?"

"I'll do my best Squall, but I'm not guaranteeing anything."

Squall set his teeth and took a deep breath. Quistis. Next time he needed to go so far undercover he could only choose one travelling companion for two months, he would choose Quistis. Instead she was probably sitting quite comfortably in his office in the Garden, taking his calls and doing his paperwork while he was chained to Irvine – _Irvine_, of all people – sitting without dignity in the mud at the side of the road.

It had all started, as most things do, with something very small. They had been driving along the road to Timber – decided because they needed to change their vehicle and Timber had the most extensive rail network, as well as being closest – and something had made a highway patrol pull them over. That something may have been that the vehicle was covered in blast marks, or that Squall had been driving a little erratically because of the state of the hardware on the truck, but whatever it was didn't really matter now.

What mattered was that Squall had talked them out of the situation – the highway patrolmen were _walking back to their car_ – when Irvine had made some smart arsed comment. Now what that was didn't matter either; the patrolmen heard it, came back to the truck and asked to see some credentials.

So Squall did the only thing he could have at that point – he put his foot all the way down on the accelerator and sped away from the stunned highway patrolmen. He couldn't wait around while the patrolmen decided to take them in (which they would have done, as it was technically a stolen vehicle) so in his eyes at least, running was the only viable option.

And so ensued a high speed chase. The patrolmen called for backup, and two more cars joined the pursuit. Squall had commented in the heat of the moment that they wouldn't be able to lose them in the vehicle they were driving, which had given Irvine the brainwave of using the small, green, magical stone they had retrieved from the black market dealing they had just fled from.

"_Trust me, Squall!"_ he had exclaimed before leaning out of the window slightly. _"I know what I'm doing!"_

And the rest followed, as far as Squall could determine, the most logical course of events that could have occurred in such a situation. That Irvine wouldn't be able to use the stone wasn't an option, as that wouldn't have been the worst thing that could have happened. No, the stone shone in Irvine's hand, so brightly Squall couldn't see the road. The next thing he felt was an intense, blistering heat build up in the driving compartment and so Squall, again, did the only thing he could have in the situation.

He jumped out of the speeding truck.

Moments later, the truck exploded in a fiery miasma and flipping onto its roof, scraped to a noisy stop on its remaining momentum. Squall, too dazed from the blast and the fall from the vehicle, had been unable to stop the descending highway patrolmen from binding his hands and then tying him to Irvine, who he had almost been unhappy to find had also bailed out of the truck.

And the worst thing about it all? Squall could live with being imprisoned; he could get out of it eventually. He could also live with being stuck with Irvine for another indeterminate amount of time; he could just ignore him. No, the entire purpose for their being out here, the reason they had risked their lives and stumbled on what looked like some kind of black market conspiracy – the small green stone – had been in the truck when it had exploded. Irvine claimed it had been too hot to hold and had let go of it before jumping out.

And so Squall, in one of the few moments when he could accurately sum up his mood in five words or less, was royally pissed off.

He glared at an approaching highway patrolman, looking very pleased with himself.

"Well, you boys seem to be in a little spot of trouble now, don't you?" he asked cheerfully.

"Hey, we're - ugh!" shouted Irvine as Squall violently elbowed him in the kidney. The less they said to these low level officers, the better in the long run.

"Don't want to talk to me? Well, that's okay. I'd rather you didn't anyhow. Don't like mixing with miscreants."

Squall glared again in reply and the officer got the idea. He gestured to one of his colleagues and together they picked up the two prisoners.

Walking side by side and still chained to Irvine, Squall had a momentary epiphany. He had risked his life and the lives of the people he loved to save this world, and here he was, surrounded by low level grunts, being arrested for someone else's gross stupidity. It just wasn't fair. Not only had he failed in his mission, but he was suffering the greatest indignity he could think of as a result.

"Well," said Irvine, sounding just as dejected as Squall. "I guess it could be worse."

Something inside Squall snapped. He launched himself at Irvine as best he could manage – his hands were tied behind his back, and his right arm tied to Irvine's left – and they tumbled to the ground, Squall doing his best to inflict lots of pain upon his partner in crime.

"How could it be worse?" he shouted as the highwaymen tried to split them up, failing as they were tied together. "How?"

"We could be _dead,_ Squall! Dead!"

Suddenly the fight went out of him. He just lay limp on the floor and let the officers pick him up, immediately after which they untied the two men in case of a repeat performance.

"What the hell is the matter with you, Squall?" asked Irvine, looking very angry. Squall didn't dignify him with an answer. They reached one of the cars and were unceremoniously dumped into the back seat. One of the officers clambered into the front, pulling away from the crash scene leaving his colleagues going over the wreckage.

As they were pulling away, Squall happened to be looking at the destroyed truck. Out of the corner of his eye he saw one of the officers produce a small, green object from the debris. They had pulled away before he could confirm what it was, though.

* * *

Three long, so unbearably long, hours later, Squall sat in a prison cell next to the one Irvine occupied. They had been searched, processed and questioned. Having said nothing, Squall was returned to his cell and now they awaited further questioning at an undetermined future time.

After he was absolutely sure no-one could overhear their conversation, Squall turned to Irvine through the steel bars of his captivity. "It's still in one piece. I saw them take it out of the wreckage."

"Wow, that's great," retorted Irvine.

"Look Irvine, don't start."

"I'm not starting," said Irvine, standing up. "I was just impressed at your ability to have completely useless information…" He started shaking and jumping up and down on the spot while Squall looked on in morbid fascination. "…While I…"

A set of keys dropped into his handcuffed palm.

"…Have far more useful material possessions," he grinned.

"How did you…? No, don't answer that question."

"Why, scared you'll be impressed further?"

"No, I can guess when you got them; I just don't want to know where you kept them while they searched you."

Irvine shrugged and started jiggling the keys around in his palm.

Squall sat in silent contemplation. If they had found the stone then it stood to reason they would have brought it back to the station with them for study or at least evidence against them. This was bad insofar that it implicated them in being involved in the black market dealing, but good that they could grab it when they inevitably escaped.

The catch on Irvine's handcuffs gave a sharp clink and he held up his unbound hands for Squall to see.

The door to the corridor outside their cell block clanged open.

Squall's mind raced into overdrive. He lunged to the bars and whispered tensely to Irvine, "Give me fifteen minutes and then break out of the cell. I'll meet you in the storage room."

Squall trusted Irvine's memory stretched to when they had visited Timber's police headquarters five months ago.

The door was thrown open just as Irvine sat down on his bench with his hands clasped behind his back.

It was the same highwayman as before, the same smug look on his face.

"You," he said pointing at Irvine. "Come with me."

"Wait," said Squall. The highwayman glanced at him. "I'm ready to talk."

"Well alright then, you can come with me instead."

He led Squall down the cramped corridor and to the small, windowless room and sat him down at the chair he had previously sat in. Handcuffed to the floor via a metal bar, Squall could only gaze intently at his interrogator. He sat opposite him across the bare table.

"So."

"So," repeated Squall.

"You want to tell me what you were doing driving a stolen vehicle, that's owned by a top military organization, by the way, and with what intent?"

"I don't want to, but I seem to have forced myself into a position where I have to explain."

"That's right. So you either talk to me and I'll help you out, or I'll have to go and get my superior. And let me tell you, he's not in the best of moods this afternoon." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "Marital problems, I reckon."

Squall stared stonily back at this sore excuse for an interrogation. "Why don't you do that?"

The highwayman took a second to realise what had just been said, and then the smugness dropped out of his face. "You'll be sorry, kid."

"We'll see," replied Squall.

The patrolman shuffled out of the room, leaving Squall alone.

A set of keys dropped into his handcuffed palm.

He huffed as he fidgeted with the loop of metal in his hands. Trust Irvine to take advantage of the exact same situation as him, and get exactly the same result. Now there were two highwaymen somewhere in the station or back on patrol sans a pair of handcuff keys, the two who had split up the fight between the two prisoners.

His handcuffs snapped open, much to his chagrin, about the same time after Irvine had started trying keys out. He would have to write this one off as a draw.

He picked up his chair and took it to behind the door just as it swung open, concealing him from the rest of the room. Two men walked in and then stopped, surprised by the lack of a prisoner sitting at the table.

Squall threw the door shut and swung the chair down onto the smug highwayman's head, and he crumbled to the ground unconscious. The older, more respectable looking of the two turned to face the now free Squall with fear in his eyes.

"I don't want to hurt you," said Squall. "But if you don't help me out I'll have no other choice."

The police superior nodded slowly.

* * *

Squall walked ahead of the superior, his hands clasped behind his back. The plan was to make it look like the officer was escorting him elsewhere in the station and damned if it wasn't working.

They approached their destination. "Open it," instructed Squall, motioning towards the door with his head. The officer unlocked the door to the storage room and walked inside.

Squall heard a small metallic snap and then the officer stopped dead in his tracks. He walked into the room to see a shadowy looking Irvine perched on a crate just behind the door, in much the same position Squall had ambushed his captors from. He was also pointing a gun at the officer's head.

"It's okay," said Squall. "I'll take care of it." The officer got one more fearful look before Squall brought his fist down into the back of his head. He collapsed to the floor, motionless.

"It's not okay actually," said Irvine. "I've checked this place out and other than this," he said as he passed Squall's gunblade to him, "There's not much that isn't locked away in safes or those big fancy display cabinets."

Squall sighed in resignation. He hadn't expected it to be easy, but he was getting tired of all of these delays. "Do you at least know where it is?"

"Uh huh, follow me."

Irvine led his superior through the dark, mazelike room of storage crates and safety boxes built into the wall. After half a minute they reached a wall of boxes with windows built into them. In one, Squall saw the stone shining cheerfully through.

"Dammit," whispered Squall. He approached the wall, intent on breaking the box open.

"No!" said Irvine. "If you try and force it open the alarm goes off. You need a key and a thumbprint, as well as the right code to open this puppy."

"How do you know all that?"

"Some of us were paying attention when we visited here last time," retorted Irvine.

Touché, thought Squall. "Alright, well we have our thumbprint, let's check him for keys."

A search of the officer yielded no results.

Squall sat against a crate thoughtfully. They couldn't stay here any longer, but they couldn't leave the stone either. If they couldn't take it with them then they had to destroy it before they went. But, they couldn't get into the box in order to do so. Suddenly he glanced at Irvine.

"See if you can get it to break."

"What?"

"You got it to do something before, and we can't leave it here with the police. We have to get out of here so if we can't take it with us you'll have to see if you can break it."

"How am I supposed to do that?" whispered Irvine incredulously.

"I don't know, try it out."

Irvine sighed, and even though the request was so ridiculous he knew Squall wasn't joking. "Fine," he muttered dejectedly. "But for the record, this is a stupid idea."

He walked to the safety box with the stone in, and looked sheepishly at the ceiling. "Break," he muttered.

"Come on, you can do better than that," said Squall.

Irvine glared at him. "Break," he said again. Nothing happened.

"Come on, you stupid stone, break!" It sat in the box, apparently content to stay that way. _"Break!"_ said Irvine intently.

He turned to Squall. "See? I told you it -"

Suddenly a bright light shone from inside the box, and Squall heard an odd noise. If he had to try and classify it, it would be the sound that stone would make if it was tearing. Then, the box and its immediate neighbours cracked open as they petrified and crumbled to dust before the two astonished men's eyes.

Squall put his hand into the mound of dust and produced the stone, which had remained unharmed from its second magical strike. "Stupid idea?" he asked Irvine, but he wasn't paying attention. Instead, he carefully picked up a fragment of stone from the pile of dust.

"Look, it has writing on it. It must have been a bit of paper in with the stone."

"What does it say?"

"It's just a couple of numbers. I don't know what they mean."

"I do," said Squall. "They're lines of longitude and latitude. I'm a bit rusty but they should be just outside Deling City."

"Great, Galbadians acting up again. You'd think they have a problem with the rest of the world."

"We don't know that yet. We should go and check it out, though."

"Yeah, yeah. We should. We need to get out of here first."

"Just a second." Squall bent to retrieve the file the officer he'd kidnapped had been carrying. "It might help to know what they know."

"Yeah. And it just so happens…" Irvine trailed off, pointing to the wall just above his head. An air vent hung open. Squall smiled grimly.

"Let's go."


	5. Shadow

There was a shift in the air. It was so subtle, even the most advanced of Shinra's technologies would never have found it unless they knew what they were looking for, and happened to be looking for it at that exact moment. For one brief second, the Planet cried out. Not in pain, but merely surprise.

Most of the world's population was completely unaware of the event, while a pair of men did take notice. In a city called Midgar, a dazed, spiky-haired warrior gained lucidity for a moment, looked around himself, and then resumed what he had been doing a moment before. The other man, more aware of his surroundings, immediately piqued up, listening to the cry.

Vincent Valentine stood by a waterfall, gazing into the depths of the water when he heard the call. He wasn't a Cetra, the Ancient race that had once populated the Planet, seeking to make it into a utopia before humanity had somehow interfered. But he wasn't entirely human either. What Vincent was … was complicated. It involved a mad scientist and various experiments, but the former Turk preferred not to relive those memories.

What was important was that Vincent wasn't quite a Cetra, but he wasn't quite a human either. And as a result, he could hear the Planet, if only a little bit, as if it were a whisper of a whisper in a language he couldn't hope to understand. But he could differentiate tones, and he knew that this wasn't the typical cry of pain that used to sing him to sleep in his coffin for thirty years.

The former Turk looked at the book he'd been half-reading, a collection of horribly written and fairly depressing poetry, and tossed it aside in disgust. Something was… not wrong, but different. The Planet was probably trying to communicate that very information to the Cetra, which were no more. The call would be unanswered.

Vincent was prepared to let it go at that, but he heard a whisper accompanying the Planet's call. He looked about, grabbing hold of Cerberus, his custom-made, three-barreled pistol.

"I … won't become only a memory."

The words, spoken for Cloud's ears alone one time in a fight that seemed to range the heavens had been audible to all present. Sephiroth's last words.

Somehow, somewhere, he was back. He would once again bring terror and destruction to his surroundings.

But his rampage would not go unmet.

Chapter Five

Shadow

Kain looked from one man to the other, expecting some sort of reaction. He normally would have waited until the old samurai had left, but something inside of him urged speed. There was an immediate sense that things had to be done immediately, that everything was in peril.

Despite that this Shadow might be an ally, he was also very dangerous. And despite his age, so was his companion. These both were trained fighting men, each favoring a different style, but both more than likely very deadly. A misstep here could prove fatal.

"What do you want with that name?" Shadow hissed, his knife dropping low, blade pointed low. If there were an attack, it would come from…

Kain's eyes widened as he noticed a subtle gesture, barely there, as Shadow's hand other hand twitched. It was only luck that he saw it, combined with over-training. A knife had dropped from his sleeve into his left hand. The right was merely a distraction, open and obvious, yet guarded so that only a trained warrior could see it. Any attack would come from the left. He could feel the hairs standing on the back of his neck. While watching the man in the common room of his inn, he'd been aware that Shadow was deadly. But he had no idea of how deadly until now. The man was good, and if it came down to a fight, Kain wasn't certain who would win. Worse, if the samurai decided to join in, Kain knew he'd be dead in moments.

"I'm not an enemy," Kain said firmly.

"But you're not a friend," Shadow countered.

"True," the Dragoon said. "But I'm in a unique position right now, and I need to talk with you. This is very important."

"I suppose you want someone killed?"

"Maybe. I'm not sure yet. Like I said, I'm in a—"

"Unique position. I heard you the first time." The assassin seemed to pause, then looked about, and swore. "Why am I not surprised?"

A man in a fancy coat carrying a drawn rapier stepped from the darkness, flanked by several men, all appearing grizzled and tough. Most seemed inept, as if the first thing they'd try to do with their weapons – an odd assortment of swords, clubs and axes – would be to swing it wildly at the first thing that moved.

"Mister Clyde!" the man in the fancy coat said. "So good of you to make yourself so easy to find. I hear there's a bounty on your head worth hundreds of thousands!"

The samurai stepped forward, his hand on his sword. "Thou seemest familiar to me, knave. I'd have your name before I take thy head for threatening my friend."

"His name is Siegfried," Shadow supplied. "Thief, adventurer, bounty hunter, and inept assassin. We met him on the Phantom Train, remember?"

"Ah yes," the samurai said. "As I recall, he ran from us then, when it was just myself, thou and Sir Sabin. In Sir Sabin's absence, however, we shalt have the assistance of … What did you say your name was, good sir?"

Putting his helmet on, the Dragoon supplied, "Kain Highwind."

"I am Cyan Garamonde," the samurai supplied. "Now that introductions art finished…"

"Now now," Siegfried protested. "There doesn't need to be a fight. Clyde here is wanted for train robbery. And as I recall, the bounty warrant _does_ want him dead rather than alive. I represent the proper authorities, and as such—"

"I haven't been Clyde for a long time," Shadow said. "Nor am I him now. Clyde died alongside Baram years ago. I think you've bit off more than you can chew."

Siegfried snorted. "And if you're not Clyde now, then who are you?"

"Shadow."

Kain wasn't sure what to be more impressed by. The look of absolute dread that came over Siegfried's face upon hearing the name, or the amazing speed in which Shadow moved after saying it. The man sprinted forward, charging ahead silently. As quick as lightning, his right hand shot up and slashed Siegfried across his sword arm, causing the man to drop his weapon and stumble back. It took Kain a moment to realize the sheer brilliance of the move. Shadow's right hand was the obvious attack. The left was concealed so that you could only catch it if you were lucky. But the Dragoon then realized that it wasn't luck that had made him able to see the left hand weapon. Shadow had purposely revealed it, forcing Kain to expect the main attack to come from that hand, when in fact; it would have come from the right, the main hand. Layers of deception, one over the other. Shadow was indeed a dangerous man.

The assassin ignored the fleeing Siegfried, changing his attack to focus on the men around him, slicing and slashing in quick, focused strokes, not parrying attacks, but rather, moving around them. Every motion he made seemed as if water.

Instantly more men erupted from the shadows, charging ahead with reckless abandon. Kain's moment of surprise over, he pushed his body down, forming an almost squat-like position, then launched himself into the air. The newcomers stopped for a moment, staring as Kain, a man in heavy plate-armor, ascended into the air above, ten… twenty… thirty… fifty feet up, then came crashing down, his lance swinging about, scattering men in all directions.

"I'll call the watch!" Cyan shouted through the din of battle.

"No!" Shadow said. "They work _with_ the law! Use your head! I need you to go into the inn, and get a pack that I have hidden behind the bar!"

"But I can help!"

"Getting my pack will help! I can hold these fools alongside Highwind until you get back!"

The words seemed distant to Kain, so focused was he on the battle, but still he heard every single one of them. He was aware of everything, the shouted conversation, the screams of wounded men, the cat in the alleyway that was quickly retreating from the noise, Cyan running into the inn, slashing opponents as he went, Shadow ducking, dodging and slashing, the man that was trying to sneak up behind him with a club…

Even as it seemed like the mercenaries were about to surround Kain and overwhelm him with sheer numbers, the Dragoon once more tucked himself down and sent himself hurtling upwards with another of his gravity defying leaps. Only true Dragoons could perform such daring displays of lower body strength, and only the best could do it with the ease that Kain Highwind displayed. He didn't come down wildly flailing his lance this time, changing his entire body so that he was as thin as possible, his weapon pointed at the ground. With little wind resistance, he became a small missile, flying to the ground, faster than his enemies anticipated. They had readied their weapons for a counterattack when he hit the ground, but he came sooner and faster than they expected. One man fell to the incredible speed Kain descended with, impaled by the Dragoon's lance. Instantly the warrior was moving, his weapon swinging about in wide, yet controlled, arcs, slashing enemies with its spear point. But despite his finesse and superior fighting skill, the Dragoon found himself steadily backing up, retreating towards the inn with every step. This was the kind of fight he hated most. The threat of death looming over his head, and not because his opponent was skilled, but only because there happened to be more of them than there was of him.

"I blame you for this," came Shadow's hiss, and Kain was surprised to find that the assassin was standing back to back with him. The two were surrounded, more than twenty opponents still standing. The ones who had previously fallen were mostly only the inept ones. While these men were still nowhere near Kain and Shadow's league, they knew enough to be able to stay alive and use their numbers to their best advantage.

Parrying an attack and countering, Kain grunted, "I wasn't the one parading around with a name that was wanted. Couldn't you have at least named your inn something differently?"

Shadow made a grunt that could have been a disguised chuckle. Kain wasn't sure.

A roar of defiance sounded, and suddenly, the path between the inn and the two warriors was clear. Cyan leaped into their midst, slashing at anyone who dared come close with his katana. The man now had a pack on his back, and a look of fury was on his face.

"More of the miscreants art hiding at the back of the inn! I summoned mine companions to deal with those that would come at us from behind like snakes!"

"You have the old man and Relm guarding our backs?" Shadow growled. "If the girl is hurt because you decided to help us—"

"There are fewer at the rear, and I feared for thy safety, once more with no good reason! Despair not, I bid them flee once they cleared the enemy from the rear! Now come, we must make a stand in thy tavern!"

The three quickly retreated, backing away with their weapons ready through the cleared path. The bounty hunters seemed to hesitate, unsure of what to do next in light of the returned samurai. In their hesitation, the three made it back into the inn, slamming the door shut behind them, Shadow firmly locking it with a quickly produced key.

"That won't keep them out," Kain said, but Cyan had already discarded the pack on his back and was shoving a table across the room to cover the door. Shadow had picked up the bag and was pawing through it. A moment later, he pulled several shuriken out, then turned the pack around and slipped it over his shoulders.

The assassin said, "They'll come through the windows, most… does anyone else smell…?"

Kain scented it, too. The stench of burning wood. He swore, and Shadow began muttering epithets about gutting whoever was laying a torch to his inn.

A window broke, a burning brand hurtling into the room. Others followed it, and more windows shattered as the room was suddenly filled with torches. The door creaked as someone bashed against it, then shuddered as another hit followed it up. More torches came into the room.

"What do we do?" Cyan asked.

"Hold them off," Kain said. "I have an idea."

He wasn't sure how the modifications to his lance would work. Golbez in his hurry to set Kain on his quest hadn't taken any time to actually explain how the blasted thing worked. With any luck, though, it would work on similar lines that the way to identify companions did…

Closing his eyes, he concentrated, just trying to focus on the lance and the newfound energies that were swirling around inside of it. He could feel the weapon humming in his hands, singing its own private song. It crooned, a dirge of sadness. There was a resonance with the lance and something around him…

His eyes snapped open. The colors of the room were different, twisted in a gut-wrenching way. They all seemed inverted, displaying the opposite of what they should be. Worse, it all seemed to swim, but as he looked on, he could see millions of tiny specks of light all around him, some the size of pinpricks, others twice the size of a man. He knew just by looking at them they weren't natural. Shadow and Cyan fought off dozens of attackers, sometimes passing through the lights. Each time they did, they shimmered, seemed to widen momentarily, then return to normal. But Kain knew if he touched one, it would pull him in, and send him somewhere else.

Cyan held the forefront, meeting the brunt of the attackers, slicing apart enemies with his sword with perfect calm. Shadow stayed back, hurling deadly shuriken at his enemy, aiming for their legs and striking them down with deadly accuracy. Men would fall, hamstrings cut or femoral arteries punctured by the small projectiles. Many of these did not die, but they were immediately put out of the fight.

Fire raged all around them, catching curtains ablaze, and worse, some torches were hurled into the bar itself, smashing liquor bottles to the floor, which promptly caught fire. Worse, more than torches began to hurtle through the windows. Kain heard it, ducking before he could see it, but the ceiling was suddenly ablaze in one single sheet of fire. He bit off an oath, and heard a startled exclamation from both Shadow and Cyan.

"They have magic!" Shadow said.

"How?" Cyan cried, "Magic has fled this world with the destruction of the Goddess statues! Kefka's death was the death of magic!"

A support beam fell from the ceiling, flames licking along its sides. It crashed behind Kain, blocking the three from the rear exit. He kept concentrating, looking for a portal he could use, one that…

"Whatever it is you're doing, Kain Highwind, do it now!" Shadow hissed.

As if the spoken words were what he needed, one portal suddenly flickered, the light disappearing from it, becoming a black doorway. That was the one. That was their way out, the way they needed to leave by.

He leaped forward, grabbing Shadow with one hand, and swinging his lance out with the other. Golbez had said to take no one extra, but they were surrounded, the inn on fire… leaving Cyan Garamonde to this fate was something that Kain could not allow to haunt him.

"Grab on!" he called. The samurai looked at the lance, confused, but did not question. He sliced at one more bandit, then sheathed it in one motion, grabbing onto the lance with both hands. With both warriors touching Kain, he hurled himself at the black portal.

Once again was the sensation of being pulled at, of being stretched, as if one half of him was still in the intense heat of the inn, while another part was somewhere else, somewhere cooler, and all that lay between was a vast emptiness.

He hit the ground hard, but he knew he was somewhere else instantly, somewhere safe. Rolling over, sunlight assailed his eyes, and used to the dark with only the flames of the tavern and street lamps to see by, he immediately winced. Standing up, he saw that Cyan was retching, and Shadow was already on his feet, going through his pack. Once more, Kain found himself in the middle of a foreign forest, the sun high above his head.

"Where are we?" the assassin asked, not even looking up.

"I'm not sure," Kain admitted.

Shadow seemed to take that in stride, as if expecting the answer. "You used magic to get us out of there. How?"

"I'm not from where you're from. Where I come from, there's still magic."

The assassin looked up, his ordinary brown eyes questioning, but filled with anger. "I think you'd better begin explaining. Now."

"Prithee, good sir," Cyan said. "I think Sir Shadow hast the right of it. It seemest we needs know what is transpiring here."

Kain sucked in a breath. He wasn't sure how to explain it himself, but he went on anyway. He tried to skirt around talking of Mount Ordeals and his quest, but Shadow immediately saw through the subterfuge and demanded to know the _full _story, even asking details about who Cecil and Rosa were, and bringing the part of the love triangle out. Finally, when he was finished, Shadow had him go over the entire thing again, asking the same questions, but rewording them. Cyan also began to throw in his own questions, but entirely different ones, such as why Kain allowed the miscreant Golbez to live, and who Gilgamesh was, to which Kain had no answer.

When he had gone through it seven times, Shadow finally seemed satisfied. He stood up, and said, "Send me back."

"Why, so you can kill every single one of the men who burned down your inn?" Kain asked.

"Yes," the assassin said balefully. "I put Shadow behind me with Kefka's defeat. But they decided to bring him back by seeking Clyde's death."

"I don't know how to send you back, and even if I did, I wouldn't. Golbez told me I could only use the abilities in this lance so many times. I won't waste it for your own petty desires."

"Do I care? I just want to go back there and make sure Relm… to kill those that burned down my inn."

The mistake was obvious, and even Shadow seemed almost as surprised by it as Cyan did. Kain took it all in stride, and shifted his grip on his weapon. "The only way you're getting back to your home is if you pry this lance from my dead hands."

Shadow immediately put himself into a fighting stance, and Cyan cried out, "No! Sir Kain here appears to be a good man! Do not fight him, Sir Shadow! Surely he will take us back home once we have assisted him in whatever trouble we have found ourselves in."

The assassin locked eyes with Kain, and the two met each other with a deadly stare that lasted for several minutes. For a moment, the Dragoon was certain that it would come down to a fight, that he would have to kill his first ally in order to keep with his mission, but abruptly, Shadow turned away, grabbing his pack, and stalked into the woods.

Kain let out a sigh of relief. He knew he was a great warrior, the type of man many stories would have been written about if not for Cecil outshining him in every way imaginable, but if he ever confronted Shadow in battle, he feared that he would lose that fight.

"What of me, Sir Kain?" Cyan asked. "You spoke of Golbez, said that the man claimed that you could take no others with you, yet here I am. Shall I remain here in this world until whatever troubles there are finish?"

Kain rubbed at his chin, thoughtful. Cyan had more than proved himself in the inn. While the samurai was clearly getting on in his years, he had fought as if he were a man in his prime. The Dragoon wished he could have seen what Cyan was capable of twenty years ago.

"Never mind Golbez," Kain said. "Besides, we're not even sure if Shadow will come—"

He stopped dead as a lithe figure, dressed all in black, his face covered with a veil stepped from the forest. What little of the man's face Kain could now see appeared to be blue, as if some sort of secondary mask was underneath the veil, or some sort of face paint had been applied to his skin. The old clothes were discarded, and everything about him was concealed, but the way he moved identified him for who he was. He was death walking. He was Shadow.

He said, "We leave, all three of us, and gather whatever ally there is to be had in this place. And then we move on, get whatever allies there are to be had from there, and then find this Sephiroth, and I'll do what I do best.

"I'll kill him myself."


	6. An Old Friend

Chapter Six

An Old Friend

One frantic scramble through the air vents later, Irvine and Squall emerged on the roof of the police headquarters. Squall surveyed the area around the building.

"There," he said, pointing to Irvine who followed his finger.

"Oh, no," said the sniper. "You've got to be fricking kidding me."

"There's no other way," said the ever fearless Squall. He picked up a loop of cable that lay discarded on the ground. "Either come with me or stay here."

"Hell of a choice that is…" muttered Irvine as Squall strode to the side of the building.

What he had pointed out was a steel cable that stretched from the massive aerial that jutted from the roof of the building to the ground near to the train station, which was presumably how Squall wanted to escape the city.

Squall looped his piece of cable around his makeshift zip line. "Are you coming?" he asked.

Irvine scooped up the cable Squall had thrown to him. "Of all the stupid, inconceivable, completely stupid ideas…" he said as he walked to where Squall waited. He looped the cord over the larger cable. "We're gonna die. You know that, right?"

Squall gave a small smirk. "You first," he said as he pushed Irvine from the side of the building.

The scream that emanated from the sniper's larynx could be heard for an indefinite distance surrounding the police headquarters, and no doubt roused the attention of the officers inside. Squall wasn't worried – he jumped from the side of the building, following the echo of Irvine's fall.

Irvine hit the ground first, crumpling to the ground ungratefully just before Squall lifted his legs over the gunslinger and ran to a stop.

"I thought you didn't have a problem with heights?" asked Squall, helping Irvine to his feet.

"Well, this time there are no ladies around to impress," he gasped, putting his fallen hat back onto his head.

Squall almost laughed at the state Irvine was in. "Come on, we'd better go," he said, running into the darkness of the night in the direction of the train terminal with Irvine doggedly trailing him.

* * *

"I'm bored," said Irvine.

They had gone to the station, to find it saturated with the local police. Quickly Squall had discovered a hiding place for them – on top of a disused train – and they lay out of sight, waiting for a break in the patrols so they could make for a train or a better hiding place. However, they had been waiting for so long that Irvine's attention had started to wander, and as far as Squall was concerned, that was a bad thing.

The sniper lay on his back, his hands behind his head, staring up at the stars. Squall tensed up, waiting for him to start humming, or even whistling. Fortunately Irvine restrained himself and Squall could return to his observation of the patrol that was walking through the train yard, but far enough away to not worry about.

Irvine frowned at the sky. "That's not supposed to…" he started, looking at a spot of light in the sky, which was moving too quickly to be a star.

"Will you _shut up?_" hissed Squall. "We're _trying_ to be inconspicuous here."

"No, but look, there's like this thing up over there -" said Irvine, and Squall lost his patience.

"It's probably a bird. Or a plane, or _something._ We don't have to worry about it. So quit going on about it."

"Really, Squall, I think -"

"Irvine!" said Squall, as loudly as he could manage. "Leave it be!"

"I think it's a -" said Irvine, and Squall held up a finger, listening. A drone had crept into the air underneath their bickering, and it was coming from the same direction as Irvine's UFO.

"A helicopter," finished Irvine, just as the shape became evident and a spotlight snapped on beneath the vehicle.

"Do you think they know we're -" started Irvine, but then the spotlight swung around to the train they were standing on as the patrol Squall had been watching wheeled around and ran back towards them. "Never mind."

Squall grabbed Irvine by the arm and launched them off the top of the train carriage and onto the next one. From there he could get a good running jump at the fence surrounding the yard, and he did so, dragging Irvine along after him. They hit the top of the fence at the waist, and hauled themselves over, Irvine hitting the dirt on his back and Squall landing more gracefully on his feet.

"C'mon, Irvine!" shouted Squall as he pelted away from the ditch they had just landed in. Irvine, tired and dazed, scrambled to his feet and took off after Squall moments before the first police officers hit the ground where he had just been lying.

Squall spotted his chance for escape – a railway bridge allowed a train track to pass above the main entrance to the depot they were fleeing; he ran beneath it, and doubled back to clamber up the side of the embankment where the bridge met the ground, loose dirt skittering down the slope as he clawed his way up to the top with Irvine doggedly following him.

The spotlight nestled beneath the police helicopter found them again, someone wailing for them to surrender from a megaphone.

Squall started sprinting down the railway track across the bridge when he felt a sharp pain in his left arm. He tripped and sprawled into the gravel he was running across, and managed to paw the tranquiliser dart out of his arm before the blackness started to overcome him.

Irvine fell to the ground next to Squall, shouting his name. He spotted the dart falling from between Squall's fingers, and then Squall closing his eyes.

"No, Squall, come on!" he cried, shaking his superior's arms in an unsuccessful effort to arouse him from induced slumber.

He looked around at the police who were starting up the bridge after them, the bright light the helicopter hovering above them had been reduced to where a sharpshooter was doubtless preparing to make his next shot, and the dimmer light starting along the tracks further into the depot that could only be a train preparing to cross the bridge.

Irvine's options had narrowed immensely, and he was left with only one he could think of. He felt into Squall's pocket and produced the small, green stone.

He pointed it at the group of officers approaching them with their weapons raised, knowing that any second they would drop him with a tranq dart, and willed the stone to do something, _anything,_ to stop the inevitable.

"Come on!" he shouted desperately at the small object that now held both his and Squall's fate within it's tiny, green interior. "Come on, _do something!"_

There was a terrible, empty second where nothing happened. And then a miracle occurred.

Irvine at first mistook the swirling light starting to manifest for the clouds of dust being kicked up by the helicopter rotors that were being highlighted by its spotlight, but then the light manifested more strongly and started to collect into a pinpoint of brilliance, hovering just above the surface of the bridge.

Then it exploded.

Irvine was thrown to the ground by the blast, partially blinded by the flash of light that mocked the police spotlight in its intensity, and then felt thousands of tiny pieces of gravel drive into his back. He crawled to shield Squall as best he could, but the worst seemed to have passed. He timidly glanced over his shoulder to check on their pursuers.

The policemen that hadn't been thrown from the bridge were now backing away from the suddenly immensely powerful Irvine, and the massive gap that used to be part of the railway bridge. The helicopter had veered away, wary of being shot down, and the vehicle finally stopped the assault on Irvine's ears and eyes.

Then Irvine saw two things. And they were both trains.

The first was heading towards him, and the now incomplete railway bridge. The police were desperately waving at it to stop, and the locomotive's brakes squealed into place just in time for it to slow enough to avoid the absence of track.

The second train was heading towards him, but from inside the train depot – about to pass underneath him.

He gathered Squall up in his arms just as ropes looped over the side of the bridge and officers began to clamber over the top in an attempt to catch him by surprise.

"I've got no time to be messing around with you guys!" called Irvine. Then he dropped backwards off the bridge, pulling Squall with him.

The policemen dragged themselves onto the bridge and gathered around the space Irvine had just occupied to watch him escape their custody on the roof of the train.

* * *

Squall made a loud thump as he hit the floor and Irvine winced, lowering himself from the hatch on the roof into the train proper. He hoped the train was heading for Deling City (it had been on the right line to take them in that direction, at least) and so even if it wasn't the right train they could jump to another, or hijack a car at the next town.

Irvine had just crouched behind a crate in the cargo car they occupied when the door to the next car opened up.

"…Search the whole train. Two felons got away from a patrol in Timber; they were last seen on top of this train. We have ground teams searching the tracks and it's up to us to search the train."

"Yes, Sir," said another voice.

"Well, carry on."

The door closed but Irvine was sure at least one of the men had remained inside the car. He heard footsteps moving slowly towards him confirming his suspicion.

While Irvine had been eavesdropping, Squall had remained slouched against the wall behind Irvine. Unsupervised, as the train tilted slightly around a bend in the track, Squall fell noisily to the ground.

Irvine had enough time to realise what the noise had been behind him when the footsteps quickened and he felt a gun press into the back of his head.

"Drop it," croaked the voice of the soldier. Irvine released the grip on his gun, putting his hands into the air. "Stand up, and grab hold of your friend."

Irvine lifted Squall to his shoulder and watched the G-Soldier scoop his gun and Squall's gunblade off the ground. There was something not quite right about the soldier's actions, and he spoke through a voice filter. Irvine thought back to the second bidder at the black market auction and thought that if this wasn't the same person then they could definitely be in league with each other.

"Walk to the door," rasped the voice through the mask. Irvine co-operated, struggling with Squall's bulk as his feet dragged across the floor. The guard opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. It was empty.

He waved Irvine forward and they walked through to the next car. This time they weren't so lucky – another G-Soldier guarded the passageway.

"Wait here," instructed their captor, and while Irvine watched out of sight, he walked to the second guard, conversed with him for a few moments, and then took the second soldier's place while he walked away. Once he was through to the next car, Irvine's new friend waved him forward down the corridor.

"What the hell is - " asked Irvine, before he was waved to silence by the soldier. The door they were standing in front of whisked open and he was ushered inside. Irvine suddenly realized he was standing in the SeeD car of the train.

"Look," he started, but all his questions were answered when the G-Soldier shut the door behind him and removed the mask from his face.

"Quistis!" Irvine exclaimed. "Boy, am I glad to see you!"

"Likewise," answered the now unmasked member of SeeD. "It's a good job for you I was monitoring the military communications from here. Squall at least told me you were in this region for the black op, and I figured the "two felons" who escaped custody could only be you. Then, I anticipated Squall would make for the train station, so I travelled here in the SeeD car. After that it was just a case of keeping you from the Galbadian patrols, after all they're too politically afraid of Garden and the SeeDs after the Sorceress fiasco to kick up much of a fuss with me."

While she spoke she had taken off the G uniform to reveal her customary SeeD attire.

"So how did you know what train to get on?"

Quistis shrugged. "I'd picked up some intelligence that there was a high level member of the Galbadian military was in the area, guessed that you'd found the same piece of information and were heading to Deling City to try and get more of a lead on it."

"No, no, no, we were going to Deling because we found some co-ordinates in the police headquarters in Timber, they're just outside the city."

"Hmm," mused Quistis. "Maybe the two pieces of information relate somehow."

"We also got this when we escaped," said Irvine, producing the file Squall had taken from the police officer. "It's the file on us and the case around us."

"That's the one thing I couldn't figure out," puzzled Quistis. "How did you wind up in police custody?"

Irvine rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "It's kinda my fault. Look, it's a long story, why don't we take a seat?"

* * *

Squall groggily opened his eyes to the sound of chattering voices. He vaguely remembered lights, a siren, and a pain in his arm.

"Hey, look who it is," said an unfortunately familiar voice. His vision cleared to see the grinning face of Irvine greet him to consciousness.

Squall groaned and sat up on the bed he occupied. Another figure sat in the room.

"Hi Squall," said his old instructor with a small smile. Squall was mildly surprised to see her, but could put together how she had managed it. He had told her the general area he and Irvine were heading to before he left, so it wouldn't be hard for her to track them even considering they were moving through back channels.

Besides, if he had to spend another day alone with Irvine he would probably kill him and hide the body.

"Glad you could join us," he said genuinely. "Why don't you bring me up to speed?"

"We've been reviewing the file you retrieved from the police headquarters," said Quistis. "The magical stone you found seems to be of no surprise to the officer who wrote the report on you, in fact considering neither of you talked during interrogation he had access to a considerable amount of data on the subject."

"So it's a new weapon made by the Galbadian government?" asked Squall, surprised. It had been thought such a device was impossible to create.

"Not exactly. It seems that it's one of a number of stones the G-Military has acquired recently, judging from the word structure of the report. It reads, '…the missing item has been recovered and will shortly be returned to holding.' Now, I'm not sure what worries me more, that the Galbadians have access to devices like this in the first place, or that they managed to lose one."

"Probably the latter," stated Squall. "Did you find anything relating to the co-ordinates in the vault with the stone?"

"No, but my guess is that it's either the location that this stone at least is being stored, or where they found it in the first place."

"Well that's all well and good," interrupted Irvine. "But as far as I can tell, those co-ords are still our only lead."

Squall and Quistis exchanged a glance. "That's right," said Squall resignedly.

"Actually no," disagreed Quistis. "I haven't told you yet, I'd received intel that a high level member of the G-Military was in your area at the same time of the black market deal. That has got to fit into this somehow."

"There's also the matter of the mangled sniper we found on the hill after we retrieved the stone," added Squall.

"But as interesting as that is, the only solid information we have is whatever is at those co-ordinates."

"Basically, yes."

"All this thinking has tired me out," stated Irvine. "Wake me before we get to Deling, will you?"

"Alright," said Quistis.

Irvine clambered into the bed and promptly fell asleep, leaving the other two SeeDs sitting at the table. They sat in silence for a few minutes.

"How is…?" asked Squall.

Quistis knew what he was asking. "She's alright. Impatient and worried that she doesn't know where you are, but she's okay."

"And the Garden?"

"That's okay too. I left Selphie in charge. She's flighty but she's got a good eye for organisation, especially considering our current task."

Squall knew that restoring Trabia Garden was a high priority for Selphie, in fact it had been her who had practically begged him to initiate the operation and now Balamb and Trabia were currently occupying the same valley. After all, it would reduce the cost immensely if the Garden with its massive capacity ferried supplies to the ruined Trabia, and the recently rediscovered mobile capability of the Garden meant they could drop off personnel and pick them up later on, instead of doing things traditionally and sending everything in a limited and vulnerable convoy. In short, Squall trusted the Garden to be in safe hands, if only because one of the few times he had seen Selphie be earnestly serious was when she talked about her devastated home Garden.

Squall nodded finally to respond to Quistis' statement. They sat in silence for a few more moments, the low rattle of the train car the only auditory company.

"Squall…" started Quistis. He looked up at her. "This is really serious, isn't it?"

He pondered his response, and then spoke carefully. "I think so. It could mean Galbadia is producing these stones as weapons to start another war, or it could mean that they genuinely discovered them by accident and simply want to study them. I think it's more likely a combination of the two, but the fact that there are high level officers of the G-Military sniffing around is reassuring as the situation isn't contained. If nothing else, at least we heard the rumours and are acting on them. Imagine if they are to be deployed as weapons, and we hadn't heard anything at all."

"I suppose so," said Quistis quietly.

They sat for a few more minutes and then Quistis stood. "The sun will be up soon. Try to get some rest."


	7. Coral

The sky was magnificently blue. The birds sang. The breeze was just a gentle touch. It had all the trappings of a perfect day. Somewhere, someone would be having a picnic. Others would be busy at some sort of work, and look to the heavens and wish they had time to just relax and enjoy the day for what it was. Some would look at it and think of how good it was for their crops. And some wouldn't notice it at all, too concerned with other things.

But the Planet noticed the one thing that was wrong; a million holes along its surface, harmless save to those that knew of them. And stepping out of one hole was a black-clad, silver haired warrior.

Emerging from the portal, Sephiroth exited into the middle of a city street. He swung about, looking around, trying to verify where he was. A smile spread across his lips immediately. He recognized this place. The shuttle was gone, a large empty spot where it had once occupied, but the rest of it was the same. This was the quaint village of Rocket Town. He was back in his own world. He would return to the others he had traveled to soon enough, but for now, he needed to be at the origin of his power. He was apart from the Lifestream now, his own being once again, but still he could feel the pull from the place called the Farplane. And now that he was back on his own world, he could feel the echo of the Lifestream. He was a part of both, but of neither. He needed to find a way to make himself whole once more.

A woman screamed, and he glanced at her. She was staring directly at him. He considered drawing his sword and killing her. Few witnesses were preferred, but a killing stroke from Masamune, a sword that drew almost no blood at all, would be even more damning than a spooked woman with wild tales of Sephiroth returned.

He turned from her, and quickly exited the town, heading to Mount Nibel. He required its reactor and what lay inside. He would return to Rocket Town when he was ready, and burn it all, just as he would with every human habitation, but for now, he needed to keep himself as secret as possible.

Chapter Seven

Coral

Kain once more held up the lance, focusing on who his next ally would be. The feeling was more distant, an echo of the former attempt. When he had asked his weapon who his first ally would be, it had given him precise information, details on what Shadow looked like, where he could be found, what his name was, and even gave him a pulling sensation until he had reached the inn. Now it was different, distorted, as if some of the lance's power had faded. Kain wondered if it was supposed to do that, or if saving Cyan from the burning inn had greater complications than he had expected. Even so, as he held the lance, he gained a feeling akin to a pull from the south, and a feeling of a large man, someone capable of ripping apart steel with his bare hands. A monk, perhaps. The color red featured prominently in the vision, but what it meant, Kain had no idea. He also had a name to go with the vague description.

_Amarant Coral._

More, the pull from the south was urgent, as if something was about to happen, and Kain had to be there immediately.

"We have to go now," he said, and pointed in the direction they were to travel with his lance.

Shadow nodded once, and immediately set off, taking point ahead of them. Kain was surprised at the utter quiet the man left in his wake. The assassin raced over broken branches and fallen leaves, leftovers from the beginning of the autumn season, without a noise. Following behind him alongside Cyan, Kain felt one of a pair of gigantic elephants after witnessing Shadow's departure.

"Sir Shadow always makes others feel inadequate in that respect, Sir Kain," Cyan said, as if reading his mind. "Always was his strength in stealth and striking from the shadows which he took his namesake. There is no other like him in the world from which I come, but many pretenders."

"There was someone much like him from my world," Kain said, remembering his companion, Edge. "But he didn't seem nearly as good as Shadow. Deadly, fast, silent, but… not nearly as dedicated to his craft. Edge was a ninja, but my newfound ally? He's… I don't even know how to describe him."

"Then just call him 'Shadow', good sir, and be done with it, for there is not a better name in all the world for him."

_Or perhaps there's no better name in the entire world for me,_ Kain thought, thinking of his relationship with his best friend, Cecil. He winced at his private monologue. He was on his own now, on an adventure without Cecil. He'd make it through this without the help of the Paladin, and then he'd be a real hero.

Shadow emerged from behind a tree to their left and stepped in stride beside them. "Highway robbers raiding a caravan up ahead. They're about to overwhelm the guards."

There was no hint that they should hurry to assist the caravan in Shadow's voice, no worry or urging to leap to save the day. He was giving a report, and he was being professional about it.

"We shalt slay the miscreants at once!" Cyan declared, his hand moving to his sword, but Kain motioned for him to stop and shook his head.

"We don't know the situation, nor do we know who this Amarant Coral is. I want to rush out there and help out those people as much as you do, but we're in a—"

"Unique position," Shadow said, his tone slightly mocking. "From what I saw, the guards were all inept, not a drop of skill between the lot of them. The bandits aren't much better, but there's one that's holding back."

"That might be our man," Kain said, but distaste filled his mouth as the words left it. Did he really want to associate himself with a man who consorted with bandits? But then, Kain himself had fought for Zemus, as had Golbez. Odds were, Shadow also had some sort of trouble in his past, especially if bounty hunters had been after him for his civilian identity, never mind his assassin persona.

Cyan looked about to protest, but then stopped, nodded, and gave a small bow. "As you say, Sir Kain."

The Dragoon knew that was going to be a problem. Cyan wasn't pleased about the possibility of adding a highway robber to their number, and worse, he wouldn't speak up about it in front of Kain. He'd keep it to himself until finally the problem boiled over. Kain couldn't deal with it at that moment with the lance urging him onward, demanding he hurry.

The three set a quick pace through the densest portion of the woods, where they crested a hill, making sure to stay out of sight. As they topped the mound, the woods gave way, and the three ducked back into the safety of obscurity. Below, the three could see the makings of a pitched battle not thirty feet away.

Kain immediately began to take mental notes. The main caravan was a large, sprawling mass, difficult to defend, with merchants, both male and female, scrambling to find cover under wagons or inside carriages. There were around thirty guards, and while they weren't quite as inept as Shadow had made them out to be, they were clearly amateurs, most of them raw recruits. Among them, though, there were a few grizzled veterans, men who had perhaps seen too many years to be in battle, but they surely knew what they were doing. The bandits themselves numbered forty, and seemed to be better fighters, wearing mismatched pieces of armor, and wielding well-wrought weapons. They clearly knew what they were doing, having worked together in the past, and knew something of battle formations and tactics. While they weren't in Kain's league, they were on par with a regular soldier, which seemed odd for bandits.

The facts began to click together. Countries didn't employ such inexperienced soldiers (or, in the veterans' case, such elderly), unless there was a shortage of able-bodied men. And the only way there would be a shortage of men like that would be if a war had broken out recently, one with devastating losses. Worse, the bandits clearly had some sort of military background, and that usually only meant one thing where highway robbers were concerned.

"Methinks these miscreant bandits are cowardly men who have fled the ranks of another army," Cyan said, and Kain nodded his agreement. Shadow was also nodding.

"Suggestions?" Kain asked.

"Surely we go out onto the battlefield and slay these outlaw brigands!" was Cyan's reply, whereas Shadow was only silent. Kain frowned at the man. It was as if… the man were testing him. He suddenly realized that where he could get little feeling for the man, it worked both ways. Shadow had as little clue about Kain as the Dragoon did about the assassin.

"No," Kain said. Cyan attempted to protest, but the blond man cut him off. "I don't like the idea of staying back, but I was instructed to take only those that my lance told me to take. I hate to say it, Cyan, but you're not supposed to be here. The only way I can think to fix that is if I don't take someone I should. We hang back. If this Amarant really is just a bandit, then we won't take him."

Cyan nodded, but fingered the hilt of his sword. The man wasn't happy about it, but he apparently saw the logic of the proposal, and said nothing. The battle raged on, and the three bystanders watched.

While the bandits had the upper hand initially, they quickly lost it once the element of surprise had completely disappeared. Orders were barked by the veterans, and the younger troops assumed proper formations, the first rank holding up shields while the second hid behind the newly formed wall and began firing arrows into the midst of the bandits.

The highwaymen were immediately driven back, unable to cope with this sudden change in tactics. They retreated as their own brethren fell down, screaming in pain.

Sudden calls were heard, and one man, a fellow wearing the best armor and brandishing a sword and a dagger, began yelling, "Amarant! We need you!"

Shadow immediately pointed to an outcropping of trees not that far from them, where a large man, quite possibly standing seven feet tall, emerged. Kain gave a start. Despite the man's immense size and brilliant red hair, the Dragoon hadn't seen the man until he had moved. He was drastically beginning to feel out of his league, surrounded by men such as this.

The large man identified as Amarant didn't appear fully human. Bright red hair dangled in front of his face, obscuring what could be seen there, and his skin was tinged blue. His two arms were malformed, completely disproportionate from the rest of his body, nearly touching the ground as he walked. A shield-like weapon with a spike protruding from it was held in one hand, while a set of claws was held in the other. Kain had seen weapons similar to those wielded by Yang, a monk from his world. The Dragoon thought they were called katars, but wasn't entirely sure if that was accurate. It wasn't his field of fighting.

Amarant replied in a belligerent tone, "Why? You're not paying me for this."

The man, now well out of the range of arrows, stopped, his mouth dropping opened. He seemed to hesitate, and then responded, "I'll double what I'm giving you."

The man grunted. "We have a contract. I guard your camp, you pay me two thousand gil a week. That's what we negotiated. I don't break contracts."

"That's not what I heard about the Brahne case!" the man said, now angry. "I'll give you triple! Six thousand gil, just to take care of this caravan for us."

"Ten," was Amarant's counter.

"Seven!"

"Ten," Amarant said, more firmly. "Your men don't seem to be doing so well."

The man hesitated, looking back to his band that were making another charge on the caravan and taking more losses. "Deal!"

The man folded his arms for a moment, staring at the enemy lines, his fingers drumming on his elbows. The bandit leader seemed to be getting impatient, and made strangling noises, while pointing excitedly, as if such a motion would spur Amarant onward. The large monk just ignored him, tapping his fingers, and occasionally accompanying the beat with a tap of his foot.

"What is he doing?" Cyan asked, exasperated.

"Waiting for the perfect moment to strike," Kain responded.

As the words left Kain's mouth, Amarant began charging forward at an angle. Kain followed the man's path, figuring out where he meant to strike. To the left of the line's center, several archers had run out of arrows, and one unfortunate soldier had tripped on his way to the supply wagon, knocking some men out of formation.

Amarant's long legs pumped, covering the distance easily. A stray arrow came flying by him, and the man deflected it aside contemptuously, the shield-like claw taking the threat of it away and sending it spinning off. A few feet from the line, where men were hurriedly bracing themselves for the attack, Amarant leaped into the air. Not upwards and into the sky like Kain would, and not to the side in a dodge like Shadow would, but rather, forward, both legs extended towards his enemies, slamming two upraised shields with his feet. Kain almost expected the man to fall flat on his back in the impressive display, but somehow the large man, with the skill of an acrobat easily half his size, managed to twist as he struck, coiling himself like a spring, and pushed off just as he hit the guards. In an amazing display of agility, Amarant spun in midair, somersaulting out and away from his enemy, and landing gracefully on his feet. Even as he landed, he was moving again, large arms punching his way into the enemy and clearing a large hole in the ranks. Even as he attacked viciously, Kain watched him move. His attacks focused on arms and legs, weapons and armor. He disarmed, he wounded, but he didn't kill. The Dragoon frowned.

The brigand leader didn't hesitate, immediately barking orders and pointing excitedly at the hole Amarant had made. The bandits, more than half their number dead, rallied and began to strike at the opening, taking the fight immediately under their control. Guards were disarmed or killed, until finally the dirty deed was done. The entire time, Cyan sat back and fumed.

"It isn't our fight," Kain reminded him. "They knew what they were getting into when they signed on. We can't risk ourselves in a pointless battle like this, and we needed to see what Amarant was really like before making a judgment on him."

"We have seen him for the money-grubbing scum that he is!" Cyan spat. "Let us leave this place and find our next ally!"

Kain was tempted to agree as he stood up, but instead shook his head. Amarant had, after all, not killed any of the guards that he himself had confronted. While his actions had brought about the deaths of others, the man himself hadn't killed anyone, and that made Kain curious. Was the man more than he seemed?

As he walked, he motioned for the other two to follow, heading closer to where the caravan was while staying out of sight. He led them through high grass, attempting to move as stealthily as possible. It was difficult with his armor, but somehow he and Cyan managed to make little noise, whereas Shadow was as his namesake, always following, just at the corner of your eye, always seeking for that perfect place just out of the light.

"… my payment now," came Amarant's level voice.

"Of course," replied the bandit leader. "Ten thousand gil, just as we agreed. I suspect there will be some token resistance. With a heist like this, I'll be King of the Bandits! We'll be infamous! Will you be--?"

"No. I'll be back in the camp, guarding it, as per our contract. This was a one-time event, Grigori. Don't expect it to happen again."

Kain moved in closer, parting the tall grass just in time to see Amarant turn his back and begin to walk away. The bandit leader, Grigori, was barely ten feet away. The Dragoon looked from the man, to the dead bodies of the guards. They could be avenged. He could perform simple justice. Somehow, in his responsibility to his quest, he felt as if he had betrayed these strangers.

He shook his head. There were more important things, and he couldn't risk everything, all the worlds and Golbez's charge, just because he wanted to do what was right. What Cecil would have done.

A woman screamed, and Kain looked to the source of the sound. A woman was being dragged from a carriage by two bandits, flailing desperately as they pawed at her clothes. She shrieked and cried.

"I am sorry, Sir Kain!" Cyan hissed, "But honor demands this not be allowed to come to pass!"

The Dragoon himself was beginning to stand up as well, but immediately lowered himself, dragging Cyan down as well as a blue, green and red blur sped toward the two bandits. The girl was plucked from their arms and set aside as Amarant stopped in front of them, robbing them of their fun.

"No," Amarant said coldly, pulling the sobbing girl away from them.

"Ah, come on, Amarant," Grigori said, moving towards the monk. "The men need their own amusements. You're not going to rob them of that, are you?"

The large man eyed the bandit leader, no emotion betrayed through the red locks that dangled in front of his face. He set the girl down on the ground, who collapsed on her knees and began to cry harder. The monk began to walk away, but the girl's cries followed after him.

"Please…" she said.

One of the two men who had been groping at her before grabbed her, and she made another scream. Amarant spun about, his two clawed hands striking in different directions. Both would-be rapists fell to the ground, clutching at fatal wounds.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" Grigori screamed. "Did I tell you to do that? What gives you the right to kill my men just because they're doing something you don't like? Are you the leader here? Are you? Just who do you think you are!"

The man crumpled as Amarant's next strike relieved him of his head. The would-be King of Bandits fell to the ground, his crownless head rolling across the grass.

"I'm the Flaming Amarant."

All about the monk, bandits drew weapons, but their spirit was already broken. They had taken heavy losses against the caravan, their leader was dead, and worse, this man who had been the strongest of them was now their enemy. It wouldn't take much to scatter them. Kain abruptly stood up, throwing his spear as he did, killing the nearest man. Cyan similarly stood up, unsheathing his sword and holding it high so the bandits could see it. Shadow stayed low, but the Dragoon knew if a fight broke out, a barrage of shuriken would erupt from the tall grass.

Kain lowered his head slightly, allowing the bandits to take in the full sight of the dragon-like head he used for a helmet, making it almost seem as if that dreadful visage were his own face.

"Flee."

The word was spoken with such venom, such intent of doing violence should anyone fail to comply, that every bandit looked from Kain, to Amarant, back to Kain again, and then hurriedly ran away.

"Took you two long enough. Heard you lurking around since before the fight started, especially him." The monk pointed a finger towards Cyan, and continued, "Didn't need your help, though. Could've handled it myself."

"Why, you—" Cyan started, but Kain cut him off, "We need your help."

"We have a 'unique situation,'" came Shadow's voice as he stood up, and Amarant gave a small start at seeing the black-garbed man. Kain suddenly had an urge to slap the ninja. The man didn't seem the type to have a sense of humor, but he certainly seemed to enjoy making that same barb over and over again.

"How much does the job pay?" Amarant asked.

"Nothing," Kain said. "Except the feeling that you know you rose above being a common bandit for a while, had a chance at being something greater, and fought possibly the greatest menace to ever threaten… well, everything."

The monk seemed as if about to spit and turn away, but instead walked to the corpse with Kain's lance sticking out of it, pulled the weapon out, and tossed it to the Dragoon. "Tell me more."


	8. Unwanted Alliance

Chapter Eight

Unwanted Alliance

"Game time," said Irvine as they prepared to disembark the train. The locomotive hissed to a halt at the station and the three companions dropped to the gravel surrounding the railway tracks from the back of the cargo car.

"Go!" hissed Squall and they ran from the cover of the car across into the tangle of commuters pouring off the train.

"Split up," said Quistis. "We'll meet at the Arch."

The three fugitives split off, as was better to evade the attention of the guards combing the wave of people.

* * *

"We need an ally," said Quistis. "Someone who knows us and is willing to overlook our involvement with the local authorities."

The meet had gone without a hitch, and they stood beneath the Archway where Squall had once been impaled by their former Matron, and where Irvine now stood breathing into his hands to keep away the cold. This place had no positive memories for any of them, and Quistis was eager to solve the mystery of Deling City and be away as quickly as they could.

"Carraway," said Squall suddenly. "He might be receptive to us because of our relationship with Rinoa and at the worst we can blackmail him with our knowledge of his involvement with the Sorceress. The government might want to make up for their mistake about Edea but they could still try him as a traitor if they knew."

Quistis nodded. "That looks like our best bet in this situation. Let's go."

Irvine led the way towards the General's residence. "Hopefully there won't be a code number involved this time," he muttered softly, raising the shadow of a smile from Squall.

They walked in silence before, predictably, Irvine made the first foray into making conversation.

"So Quistis, have you heard of the state of Galbadia Garden through any back channels?"

Squall glanced at the sniper suddenly. He often forgot that Irvine's roots were in Galbadia Garden, much like Selphie's were in Trabia. He thought that it might be hard for him occasionally, as expressing any concern about his former residence would bring back bitter memories, at least with most of the residents of Balamb Garden. He supposed it was a good thing he trusted Squall and Quistis enough to ask about it openly in front of them.

"Nothing officially, although as you saw when our two Gardens fought Galbadia was the one more structurally damaged in the conflict. I suppose it's better off than Trabia but certainly worse than Balamb. You know now that I think about it, I'm not even sure they've restored power to their transportation device. For all I know it could be sitting just off our orphanage still."

"I didn't see it," said Squall without explanation. "I heard a rumour that it sank into the ocean, but that's most likely a folk lore to explain its sudden disappearance after the Sorceress War."

"So you couldn't say where it is right now," said Irvine, and Squall was struck by the possibility Irvine wasn't just making small talk.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

"Well, I dunno, but you said that those co-ordinates we're gonna be checking out aren't anything important. Well, what if they aren't? Most of the time, that is."

"It's entirely possible they're the current location of Galbadia Garden," Quistis speculated. "Maybe we should ask around and see if anyone's heard anything about it. If the Galbadian military were stockpiling these new magical weapons then the Garden would be the most logical place to store them. It's mobile, heavily fortified, and entirely self contained except for the occasional delivery of supplies."

Squall sighed. "In other words we should never have assumed for it to be as simple as we thought."

"Not necessarily," reassured Quistis. "This is all just conjecture at this point."

"I suppose so," said Squall. They walked the remainder of the distance to Carraway's residence in silence.

* * *

This time, they had gotten past the guard with relative ease and Carraway had agreed to see them right away. Squall would have been relieved except the whole situation made him feel even more suspicious than he did before – getting in to see Carraway was a trial before, yet now they could see him immediately. Something was going on.

The man in question walked into the room – the same room Quistis, Zell and Selphie had been locked in before their fateful assassination attempt on the Sorceress.

"Good to meet you again," said the General. Squall regarded his outstretched hand expressionlessly. Carraway withdrew it after a moment.

"What's going on here, General?" asked Squall.

Carraway sighed. "You're probably here because of the fiasco in Timber. Yes, I've heard all about it and don't worry; I've no intention of turning you into the authorities. But, rather than demand something in return, I thought we could come to a mutual exchange."

"Blackmail?" blurted Irvine. "You're blackmailing us after what we did for you with the Sorceress?"

Carraway scowled. "You make it sound like you did me a favour. I paid the Garden for its services and you entered into a legally binding contract – your services in exchange for payment."

"Alright, gentlemen," said Quistis. "Can we calm down please? Let's hear the General out, Squall."

Squall nodded, and the General continued. "You have something I want, and I want something you can get for me. So, I suggest rather than apprehending you and me taking what I want, we help each other and come to a mutually gratifying agreement."

"Forgive me if I'm wrong, but we don't get anything from this exchange," said Squall.

"Wrong. You further your understanding of the situation and you further evade custody."

Squall sat, contemplating the situation. Clearly Carraway wanted the stone they carried, but for what reason? Squall didn't want to descend into a political quagmire but the circumstances were forcing his hand into a stalemate with Carraway.

"I don't see the benefit of the remote possibility of gaining knowledge against losing the only leverage we have against our currently unknown enemies."

"I understand your reluctance in proceeding but let me outline my proposal to you." He clicked a button and a screen appeared on the far wall. Squall tried to contain his surprise when he saw the image projected there.

"What I want from you is to infiltrate a government facility, download their entire database and return it to me. No-one can know you're there, and no-one can detect the download. I'll provide any tech support that you need for this operation, and you'll have complete operational control."

"How long do we have?"

"I've arranged for a chemical spill to take place at the facility. You'll go in as the cleanup crew along with a real team, and while they clean up the spill you'll go for the computer and make the download. They leave in forty minutes."

"And you just had this all ready to go on the off chance we would turn up at your mansion?" asked Irvine incredulously.

"Actually…no, I had hired a mercenary to take care of this operation. He'll be accompanying you into the facility."

"Who is he?" asked Squall.

The door to the room opened, and the figure stared at the ensemble as the trio of fugitives, equally nonplussed, stared back.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me," said Seifer.

"_Seifer?"_ said Irvine and Quistis at exactly the same moment. Squall felt a cold rage grip his chest but didn't allow his emotions to show at seeing his old adversary in the flesh again.

"Of all of the…"started Seifer, but couldn't quite find the words to complete the sentence.

Carraway had stood to the side, watching the exchange. Now he stood forward. "Like I said, he'll be accompanying you to the facility. You leave in thirty minutes."

Abruptly he walked out of the room. Squall and Seifer were glaring at each other from across the empty space between them. Irvine shifted uncomfortably in the armchair he occupied.

"So, Seifer…How've you been?" This earned him a scowl from the disgraced SeeD.

"Look, I've got no time for messing around with you guys. Gear and suit up, then we need to go. Get moving."

"Actually Seifer," said Squall, his voice trembling slightly with anger. "Carraway said that I have operational control. This time _I'm_ the group leader. You do what I say, when I say it. Got it?"

Seifer sneered and Squall turned away, disgusted. "Let's go."

* * *

The van they were travelling in hurtled along the dirt road towards the facility they were infiltrating. Another van trailed behind them, and that van contained Seifer. Squall was steering the vehicle they occupied.

They looked ridiculous dressed in their cleaner's overalls, but whatever needs must.

Quistis and Squall were arguing fiercely about their new companion.

"I can't believe Carraway would trust Seifer. He was the Sorceress' bodyguard at the height of her power."

"Carraway had complete anonymity when he ordered that op, Seifer has no idea he was the one to order the assassination of the Sorceress," argued Quistis.

"He's still completely unreliable. I thought he'd gotten out of this life after Adel and Ultimicea."

"Apparently not," put in Irvine. "Look Squall, we just have to get on with it. I don't know why you're going through with this even though Seifer is involved."

"Because the facility we're infiltrating is squarely on the co-ordinates you found," supplied Quistis.

"Also Carraway was sure to arrest us if we didn't co-operate," added Squall.

"Oh. Well, that's even more reason for you not to let Seifer get to you."

"I know, I know. I can't help it though. It's just something about him that makes the rational part of me go away."

"Well send him off with the other cleaners. Then you don't have to worry about him."

"No," said Squall as they pulled up to the inconspicuous pit in the ground ahead of them, which undoubtedly held the entrance to the facility. "We have to keep a close eye on him. We don't want another Dollet considering the stakes."

They clambered out of the beat up van and a man who appeared to have popped out of thin air moved to greet them.

"You're the clean up crew?" he asked. Squall and Irvine exchanged a glance, and before the sniper could utter the inevitable 'no' that was undoubtedly on his lips Squall stepped in.

"Yes, can you direct us to the chemical spill?"

"Absolutely. I'm glad we could get a hold of you guys before the leak got too bad to control. We're set to lose a lot of work if you can't do a quick job."

"Don't worry, we're the best at what we do," grinned Irvine. Squall frowned as they appeared to be walking towards the ditch in the ground.

"Where is this facility?" asked Squall as they reached the dip in the earth.

The man who greeted them walked into the pit, but disappeared up to his knees in what was obviously some kind of illusion.

"Right this way," he smugly allowed, and Squall darkly glanced back at Seifer, waving he and the other cleaners forward. Then the three in the lead followed the facility representative down into the illusion.

"That's some pretty impressive technology you have there," said Quistis.

The rep waggled his eyebrows at her. "Well you didn't hear this from me but all of Esthar was completely concealed for years by a similar kind of technology. It wouldn't take much for someone to get their hands on one of the concealing generators and reverse engineer one that'd just cover that little entrance. All hypothetical, you understand," he said, giving her a flamboyant wink. Squall, knowing Quistis a lot better than this man, could see her barely contain rolling her eyes. Instead, she smiled after a moment and then turned to observe the corridor they were travelling down.

Squall had to admit the place was quite impressive; steel walls that generated comfortable warmth, and they were approaching a bulky security door at the end of the corridor. When they did, the rep leaned forward to allow a retinal scan, and then pressed his thumb onto a small pad. As the door whirred slowly open, he extended his hand to Quistis.

"How rude of me, I didn't introduce myself. I'm Robert Wells, and I co-ordinate this little facility."

Quistis, if only to keep their cover, grasped his hand and shook it. "Cindy Marsh, pleased to meet you."

He looked quite pleased at the result of the conversation, and led them through a similar corridor to the one they had just travelled along. A quick glance behind them revealed Seifer and the other cleaners hauling heavy equipment along the steel floor.

"Tell me Mr. Wells," said Quistis, "What is it that you do here?"

"I'm afraid that our manner of research is classified. And please," he added, as Irvine shot a barely contained look of amusement at Squall, "Call me Robert."

At least she had gleaned that piece of information for them – this place _was_ a research facility, but was it studying existing stones or building them?

"Here we are," said Wells at last. "This is as far as we can go before we become contaminated by the chemical spill. I suggest you use this room to the side to store your equipment and suit up, and then we can proceed in the cleanup operation."

"We?" said Squall, suddenly startled. Wells just grinned at him.

"Of course, this is a highly classified facility. I can't just let you walk around on your own, unfortunately."

"Of course. I'm sorry," offered Squall, to which Wells nodded, leading the way into the moderately large room off the main corridor, which looked to be some kind of storage room.

Seifer appeared next to Squall, and a quick glance revealed he was pulling a small dagger from his coveralls. Squall grabbed his hand.

"No," he muttered into Seifer's ear. "No-one can know we were here."

"And no-one will, there'll just be a body," reasoned Seifer.

"That's not what I mean and you know it," hissed Squall. He nodded at Irvine, who produced a syringe and with astonishing speed had injected Wells with the contents. He crumpled to the floor.

"A sedative," explained Squall, releasing Seifer. "When he wakes up we'll say he passed out from breathing the chemical fumes."

To this Seifer only stared at Squall, and then motioned the other cleaners to prepare to carry out their assignment.

Quistis and Squall exchanged a dark look, and then started slipping on the large chemical protection suits.

"So Quistis, how've you been?" asked Seifer as Squall pulled on the bottom half of his suit.

"I've got nothing to say to you, Seifer," she retorted, but Seifer seemed non-plussed.

"How was Timber?"

For this she turned to look at him, tying the belt of her trousers. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Of course not, of course not," he smiled. "What about you, Squall?" he asked, some of the false humour falling away to show his barely contained anger. Squall said nothing in reply.

"What about Rinoa?"

"I'm sure she's fine," was all he gave, but that was enough for Seifer to continue.

"Oh, but you're not sure."

Squall glared at him.

"You two having some problems?"

"That's none of your business, Seifer," said Quistis, but Squall tried a different approach.

"How's your posse, Seifer? Fujin and Raijin doing okay?"

There was a moment where Seifer didn't reply. "I'm sure they're fine," was what he managed. Squall smiled to himself, and they finished dressing in silence.

* * *

"Quistis, you head to the computer room and get the download. Irvine, see if you can find the head office of this place. Don't be too obvious though, a lot of the staff are still in here, we don't need somebody asking questions."

"What about you?" asked Irvine.

"I'll stay here and keep an eye on everything," Squall said, glancing at Seifer.

"Right. I'll see you in a little while then."

"Be careful," said Quistis.

"You too," reciprocated Irvine before the two departed down the corridor.

He waited for a few long minutes and then turned back to Seifer. "I guess it's just you and me then, Squally."

"Shut up," said Squall. "Not another word."

"C'mon, why so mad? Cause I nearly killed your girlfriend?"

"If you're trying to piss me off then you're going the right way about it," threatened Squall.

"I'm scared, Squally-Boy," taunted Seifer, apparently unable to contain his distaste for Squall's company any longer.

"You've been asking for this since we met again," said Squall, moving in towards Seifer. He stopped in his tracks when the lights died.


	9. Kochi

Vincent placed his hand calmly into the … hole, and a frown creased his features. It wasn't the first of them he'd found, and he suspected it wouldn't be the last. He could only faintly see them, like spots on his vision after seeing a flash of bright light. Most of them were small, barely larger than his fingertip. But others were the size of men, and others still, the size of small vehicles.

As was the same with all the other holes, nothing momentous happened. The spot shimmered somewhat, as if reacting to something within Vincent, but other than that, it was eventless. The former Turk had tried throwing rocks at the holes, even shooting them, and they hadn't even done that.

Withdrawing his hand, he shook his head. Whatever was causing them was still a mystery, but as the day wore on, more appeared, and the older ones expanded. They may be connected to Sephiroth, but the Turk wasn't sure of that yet. Part of being a Turk was knowing how to be a proper investigator, and good detectives never made such leaps of faith. But they also never dismissed such possibilities until proven otherwise.

And that meant figuring out what the holes meant. He fingered his PHS. It hadn't been turned on in a year, but it had been well tended, just in case of an emergency. Unhooking the phone from his belt, he flipped open the top, and dialed the number of an old friend. It rang half a dozen times before someone picked up, half-shouting, "What d'ya want?"

"Cid," Vincent said, wasting no time on greetings, "I need you to cobble together any technology you may have borrowed from Cosmo Canyon or looted from the remnants of Shinra. I've found evidence of some sort of phenom-"

"What! Vin! That you? Damn you, you blood-sucking vampire! Fuck, no! I should say soul suckin'! You certainly suck a lot, I'll give you that! Disappear like you did after we beat Sephiroth, turn off yer damn phone, and now yer callin' and makin' _demands_? I ain't doin' it, you big dick! Not for all the tea in Wutai!"

The sound of something slamming followed, followed by Cid muttering about 'how the hell he missed the damn receiver' followed by another slam as all sound was cut off. Vincent looked at his phone, frowned, flipped it shut, and counted to three.

As he hit the third number, the PHS rang, and the ex-Turk opened it up, answering as politely as possible, "Yes, Cid?"

"You better damn well apologize t'me! And to everyone in Avalanche, too, although those prissy little girls all said some shit about 'respecting your space' and some other stupid shit! Now, where do you get off-"

This time, Vincent hung up on him. A moment after that, the phone rang again. The Turk allowed it to ring several times before finally answering it.

"Where the hell d'you get off hanging up on _me_?" Cid bellowed. "Why, I don't even know why I'm talkin' to-"

The former Turk deliberately pressed the 'END' button once more, terminating the conversation. A casual observer would think he was being immature, or avoiding the argument. A casual observer would be wrong. There was only one way to get the pilot's attention, and that was to get him to come to you. Short of begging, nothing else worked. And Vincent Valentine begged for no man.

Once more, the red-caped man let the phone ring a number of times before answering. After the count reached seven, he pressed the 'PHONE' button, and held the PHS to his hear.

"Okay," Cid grumbled, "I've got a deal. I look into your damn problem, and it better be important, and I get to yell at you some more. And no hangin' up!"

The Turk agreed to the terms, and then detailed out the strange 'holes' he had been seeing. Telling the pilot any details about his hearing the Planet was right out. Cid didn't need to hear about that until it became more than just a suspicion, and as for Sephiroth… There was no point in frightening Cid, or worse, bringing Cloud into it and getting him worked out about it. Cid was hardly the most quiet of men, sometimes seeming like a woman with his ability to gossip over a cup of tea. No, if he told Cid, it would get to Barret, and if it got to Barret, it would get to Tifa. And if Tifa found out, Cloud would know within the hour, if not sooner.

No, best not to complicate matters by adding Cloud Strife into the mix. The man was a walking fortress of issues. Even more than Vincent himself. Powerful, yet unpredictable, and for the moment, the former Turk felt like there was little enough that he could control about the situation.

"Huh," Cid said once Vincent was finished. "These holes sure as shit sound weird. I haven't seen anythin' like 'em, but then again, I seem to be missin' out on all the good sights today! First, I hear about some tournament goin' on in Gold Saucer that I ain't got no time for, and then… Would you believe Shera said she saw Sephiroth? Right here in Rocket Town. Got a real laugh outta that one! Imagine that… Sephiroth. And here was me thinkin' we killed him ages ago!"

But Vincent didn't laugh. He nearly dropped the PHS as he went dead cold, the closest thing to a panic he had felt in some time. He tried to sound calm, his normal cold tone filling his voice, devoid of emotion. "Sephiroth?"

"Yeah, the fool girl said she saw Sephiroth, black coat and silver sword and all, walk out of a hole in … the… air. Aww shit. Y'don't think the two're connected, do you?"

"Pray that they're not," Vincent said grimly. "Don't tell any of the others what has transpired, not until I have more information. No need in panicking them."

"Yeah. I won't say a damn thing."

"Your word on it. None of them must know of any of this. Especially Cloud."

"Shit, man. I damn near forgot you've been gone so damn long. You don't know. Cloud's been missing for almost a damn year now. I couldn't tell the numbskull if I wanted to!"

Chapter Nine

Kochi

Introductions were made, and the Dragoon related his tale to the monk mercenary. Amarant wasn't sure how much of Kain's story he believed. Every one of his instincts screamed against the absurdity of the entire thing, but on the other hand, he himself had been on a similar adventure. Along with Zidane and his group of pansies, Amarant had in fact been to another world, one somewhat similar to his own. Was there some link between this 'world traveling', and the traveling done between Gaia and Terra?

The monk took it all stoically, neither believing nor disbelieving, just observing the three men. The fellow in the blue dragon armor, Kain, was clearly the leader. Bold, strong, assertive in his authority. But there wasn't something quite right about him, as if he were unsure of his place. Amarant filed that away for later use. Next was the samurai, complete with bad mustache and greased back hair tied in a ponytail. Just the way he stood, with his expression of self-righteous fury, reminded Amarant so much of a knight he had known once, a man by the name of Adelbert Steiner. Amarant hadn't liked him either.

The third of their number disturbed Amarant, though. He'd heard and even on some occasions, seen Kain and Cyan moving about in the tall grass. But this black-garbed man, this… _Shadow_… had somehow managed to move without making a single sound, without making a blade of grass move. Not even Amarant himself was capable of that level of stealth. For a brief moment, the monk wondered how well Shadow could fight.

"So," Kain said, finishing off. "Will you join us?"

Thinking it over, Amarant was tempted to say no. Money was tight with all the warring over and done with. Everyone who needed killing was dead. No one wanted to fight anymore, they just wanted to rebuild. What the mercenary needed was a paying job, to support his nasty habit of eating.

But then again… as Kain had related the story, something had gripped him. The name. He didn't know the man, had no idea what he was about, but something in him reverberated. A reaction that reverberated to his very soul. As if something had finally clicked into place, something he'd spent his whole life waiting for. The fight he'd spent his whole life waiting for.

Sephiroth.

"Only if you slouches promise not to get in my way," he grunted. He purposely craned his neck as he said it, the muscles making audible snaps and crackles.

The one named Cyan seemed to take offense to the comment, but Kain merely nodded, and Shadow turned away, but something about that man's stance… that one didn't trust Amarant at all. And that was just as well. Amarant didn't trust him either. Didn't trust any of them. But especially didn't trust Shadow.

"So, we goin'?" the big monk asked.

Moments after that, Kain made sure all three of them were touching him, and held up his spear as he seemingly searched for something. Amarant took careful note of it all, watching Kain's habits as he moved, looking for what it was the Dragoon was searching for. But mostly, he noticed that Shadow watched Kain every bit as much as he did. Dissension in the ranks, or was the black-garbed man as dubious about this mission as Amarant was?

Further speculation was cut off as a jolting sensation struck him in the stomach, and suddenly, it felt as if he were being stretched, but held in place at the same time. Bile rose up in his throat as he had the sudden urge to vomit. Everything began to blur….

And then, just like that, it was over. Everything jolted as Amarant felt the ground shift under him, and it was suddenly night. The sky was pitch black, and more, the ground was covered in snow. Wherever they were, it wasn't anywhere close to where they had been.

Shadow dropped his hand from Kain's shoulder first, and Amarant did like-wise. Cyan, awe-struck and staring at his surroundings like a country bumpkin, was the last to do so, his hand falling to his sword as he suddenly realized that even though their surroundings appeared peaceful, they could easily be dangerous.

Shadow appeared to be likewise battle-ready, but Amarant merely looked over his surroundings contemptuously. They were in the countryside, but not far from them was a small town that appeared to be in ruins. Even from the distance, though, signs of humanity could be seen. Lighted windows, and people moving around.

All about them mountain peaks reached for the sky, and the sky held clouds that looked pregnant, about to give birth to new snow. Amarant hoped that they wouldn't be out too long. He was beginning to feel the urge to sit by a fire, and drink his fill of good beer.

Kain held up his spear-like lance, staring directly at it. His eyes slowly closed, as if focusing. A look of grim determination came over his face, and then suddenly, it was wiped away, and the man was thrown back, falling to the ground, gasping for air. Shadow was instantly by his side, crouching down, while Cyan surveyed the surroundings, looking about for potential danger. Amarant grunted.

"What happened?" Shadow hissed.

"Tried to… sense our next member…" Kain rasped. "… Got feedback… don't know what happened. So angry. Whoever it is… he's filled with such… rage."

"Did you get a name?" Shadow asked. "A description?"

"No," Kain said. "Just a direction… a pulling, and a feeling of unbelievable anger. Somewhere there."

He pointed to the walled town ahead with his lance. There were no words needed between the four. They merely set out to their destination.

* * *

The group attracted some curious glances as they entered the town, which mostly stood in ruins. As they entered the walls, Shadow disappeared from sight, scrambling up a wall and moving from damaged rooftop to damaged rooftop. Even without the presence of the black-garbed assassin still brought on many confused and curious looks. Clearly, wherever they were, the appearance of a seven-foot tall man with blue-tinged skin, a man wearing the armor of a samurai, and a Dragoon were not common sights.

Amarant paid the people no mind. What did it matter to him what people thought? He was used to idiots staring at him. Everywhere he went, people wanted to gawk at the red-haired giant. This was no different. Still, his hands twitched with the need to do violence.

The three wandered the streets, Kain acting as their guide. He didn't hold the look of profound concentration that he had before, but something about him still seemed set.

The more they moved, the more Amarant came to realize that many of the ruined buildings had at one point been part of one greater building, one that had perhaps sprawled the entire length of town. But now many newer buildings had been built on the premises, replacing many of the older ones, and turning it into more of a town than it would a complex.

A movement caught the mercenary's eye, a patch of darkness where there should have been starlight up on a rooftop to his left. Shadow had deliberately revealed himself. Amarant grunted, patted Kain on the shoulder, and the Dragoon stopped and looked at him, perplexed. The redhead nodded his head toward the rooftop. Glancing in the direction as discretely as possible, Kain spun on his heel and headed to the alleyway closest to the rooftop. Once the small group was inside, Shadow emerged from the darkness. Amarant frowned. He hadn't even seen the man leave the rooftop. Stealth was clearly his primary strength. But did his fighting skill match?

"What did you find out?" Kain asked.

"Not as much as I would have liked. I found a building with a banner on it that identified itself as the 'Trabia Garden Reconstruction Committee.'"

"What does it matter that these locals wish to restore a local garden?" Cyan asked.

Amarant was about to agree when Shadow glared at the man, saying; "I thought much the same in my ignorance at first. But then I stumbled on a map of… well, here…"

The man produced a neatly folded piece of paper from his belt, and laid it out on the ground, motioning everyone closer to see it. In the little light, Amarant had to squint, but it looked like the layout of the town, and on the top, labeled in large letters, read, 'TRABIA GARDEN.'

"So we know where we are," Amarant said. "Big deal."

Kain pointed to one particular spot on the map, something that looked to be part of what was once the main complex. "A training center. A barracks. Mess hall. Was this some sort of a military installation?"

Shadow nodded. "Perhaps once. But not any longer."

"The damaged buildings," Cyan said. "I see. This Trabia Garden hast seen the wicked ways of war, and still rebuilds."

Amarant grunted, looking at the buildings once more. "And it saw some bad fightin' from the looks of it. So, if this was some sort of military installation… who took them out, how recently, and is the fight really over?"

"It doesn't matter," Shadow said. "We shouldn't be here long enough to worry about it."

Kain, however, looked thoughtful. Scratching his chin, he looked up at the buildings, and answered, "I'd say this took place about a year ago. Some sort of magical attack, perhaps…"

"Cannons," Amarant said.

"Maybe. I don't think I've ever seen a cannon capable of this level of destruction, though. It looks like the attack was indiscriminate, though. Half the buildings that should have been destroyed weren't, and from the looks of it, some of those that were shouldn't have been. And judging from repairs and lack of newly erected fortifications, I can judge that we don't have to worry about a second attack so long as we're here."

"Good, now if we can continue our searching…?" Shadow said, impatience heavily layered on his voice.

Amarant grunted, stood up straight, and walked away from the little group huddle. They sure as hell didn't need his help, and when they were done, they'd come for him since they apparently needed him so badly. Behind him, he heard Cyan grumble something about a 'miscreant dog' and a 'disrespectful fool.' Only catching the gist of it, Amarant could only assume Cyan was speaking of his own mother.

Snow crunched under his boots as he took the most direct path to the nearest tavern. He'd spied out its location on the map when Shadow had rolled it out, and was now determined to get something resembling food and drink into him. He wasn't sure if his money was going to be good in this world, but gil was made from gold, and gold was usually always worth something. Or so he hoped. If not, he could always dine and dash. Not like any of the local twerps could stop him anyway.

Finding the tavern wasn't hard. It was one of the larger buildings, with light pouring out of most of its windows, and an aura of noise seemed to bubble out of it as a female voice sang, and a boisterous crowd within cheered it.

The front door swung open as Amarant shoved it, causing it to bang against the wall. He strode through the opening, stopped, and surveyed the crowd. Most of the people were dressed casually, but one out of every three seemed to be wearing some sort of school or military uniform. No one paid any attention to his rather dramatic entrance, instead more focused on a girl in a yellow dress that stood on a stage, singing her heart out to anyone who would listen. He caught a few words with half an ear, something about a heartbreaking cowboy and a pretty flower of a girl. A love song that he could thankfully tune out.

He made his way across the bar, looking for an empty table. The place was packed, but oddly enough, there was a single empty table with a lone chair. Mentally shrugging, he grabbed the seat, pulled it out and sat down, noting the looks he received from several people. Obviously sitting in that particular chair was a bad idea. Tough shit for whoever normally occupied it.

A waitress came by, and nervously asked him if he'd like anything to eat. He ordered a plate of steamed vegetables, despite how a part of him longed for red meat, still bloody and ripe. "I also want beer. Two pitchers. I have some friends who're going to join me in a bit, and they might want one. Make that three pitchers."

"How many cups?" she asked, looking around nervously, as if searching for someone. Probably for the owner of the chair.

"Three," he said. Let Cyan get his own damn cup.

The girl smiled a fake smile and walked away, clearly worried about something. Amarant could read between the lines. Whoever normally sat in this seat would probably be angry and would want it back. Maybe enough to start a fight for it. The mercenary smiled. He always liked a good tussle.

"CHAIR," a voice said from behind him. He frowned. It was a _female_ voice. "MINE."

Standing up, making sure to put his back as straight as possible so his full height of seven foot six showed, his head nearly brushing the ceiling, and smirked, saying, "Your chair?"

He turned as he said it to regard his opponent, deliberately making a show of having to look down on her. The woman - no, _girl_ - stood only up to mid-chest on him, glaring up with red one eye, the other covered with a patch, her face covered in a fury. Her skin looked to be dead white, and her hair was an equal match. Both her fists were clenched at her sides, but she didn't appear too steady on her feet. He nearly laughed in her face. A one-eyed, albino _girl_ wanted to pick a fight with the flaming Amarant? And she was drunk, too!

"MINE," she said, and kicked him in the shin. "LEAVE."

_Okay,_ he thought, in pain from his throbbing shin, but refusing to let it show. _The bitch dies._

He didn't even bother pulling his two claw-like weapons from his belt. For some reason, he felt like getting some blood on his knuckles. Setting his body into a near squat, he lowered his fists until they were almost touching the ground, preparing to unleash his body like a spring into a series of massive strikes. In turn, the girl put herself into a traditional stance, albeit a sloppy one. She really was drunk. He snorted. This would be quick.

"Stop!" a voice cried.

_Like that'll happen_, Amarant thought, getting ready to take his first swing.

A girl with brown hair and wearing a yellow dress, the same one that had been singing on stage, jumped between them, both her arms in the air, while she began chanting a mantra of, "Everyone! Love! Peace, and happiness!"

_Okay,_ _the albino dies second. _

"LEAVE," the one-eyed woman said to the newcomer.

"Come on, Fu!" the girl exclaimed. "No more fighting. Remember what the bartender said? He won't let you drink here anymore if you keep on fighting."

Breaking his stance, Amarant rolled his eyes. It's not that he went around looking for fights these days like he used to, but he still enjoyed a good brawl, and drunk or not, the albino named 'Fu' had spirit. And Amarant Coral loved to punch the spirit out of people.

"Please!" the girl said. "Don't fight, Fujin. I'll… I'll sing that song you wrote! I know it's kind of gloomy, and dark, and not my usual thing, but I'll sing it if you don't fight!"

The albino's face flickered between anger at Amarant and… something else he couldn't quite identify directed at the girl in the ugly dress. Something resembling… happiness? … The albino dropped her stance, and the other girl began talking again, a bubbling of emotion coming out. "Okay. Good! We're not fighting. No fighting tonight! Peace prevails again!"

The woman named as Fujin glowered at the yellow-clad hippy. "SING."

"Okay, okay… I just have to remember how it goes. 'She's not but a whisper…' Uhm… 'A Thousand Sins hold onto her'… er… I remember there was something about a devil rising from someone's chest… oh, and a knife. Something about her loved one killing her, right? I can't remember."

"BAH!"

Amarant, impatient, interrupted, "So, we gonna throw down, or what?"

Fujin stared hard at him, but began to turn away. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the door to the inn open and Kain and his little procession troop in. Time for them to see what the Flaming Amarant could do.

"That's cool. I'm sure there's someone else who'd rather fight. I mean, if you're sitting around writing nothing but sissy songs all the time, I'm sure you wouldn't be much of a challenge, anyway."

Fujin abruptly turned on him, her face flushing with anger, and fists clenching.

"You should get angry more often. Gives you some color. Doesn't make you look like such a freak."

"RAGE!" she said in her normal, abrupt and loud tone.

"Come on, Fu," the girl at her side said, trying to pull her away. "I'll sing your song… you just have to remind me how it goes. Sorry, but the song's really morbid. Not even Raijin or Seifer liked it, even when they were still-"

Fujin's fist abruptly lashed out and connected with the tiny girl's face, knocking her flat. Everyone in the bar studiously began looking somewhere else. Amarant smiled. The distraction was gone.

His first swing caught her clean in the jaw. The second drove the breath from her lungs as it connected to her midsection. Fujin stumbled back, gasping wildly. She began to circle him, dropping low, as if ready to spring away from his next hit. Smart move. Weren't a whole lot of people who could take too many of his hits.

His third punch was a downward attack, but Fujin quickly dodged aside, and instead his fist connected with a table, part of the wood smashing off as it did. Still Amarant swore. The table may have given way to his fist, but wood shards had embedded themselves into his knuckles. He hated it when that happened.

Abruptly, his hair began to blow in his face, and whipped about. He turned around, focusing on his opponent, who was surrounding in a small blue glow, an aura of magic about her.

"Ah, hell," was all he could manage as a tornado spell took him full on in the chest and threw him across the room, along with several pieces of furniture. Slamming into the wall, Amarant could feel the wind magic inside of him, and took his opponent into a new consideration. It had been a powerful spell, one that if allowed to continue, might have killed him. Good thing for her she had stopped it early. She was about to learn a little lesson about Amarant Coral.

People all about screamed and began to flee. Soon, the room was vacated, save for himself, Fujin, and Kain and his little entourage, who watched from the sidelines. Oh hell no. He wasn't gonna be shown up by no freak girl in front of them.

The winds began to die down, and Fujin glared at him, but seemed a little unsteady on her feet. The fight was almost over, and Amarant was annoyed by that more than anything else. _Too soon for that. Spell must have winded her. Ugh. Now I'm making puns in my head._

"Your first mistake," Amarant said simply as he stood up, "was that you picked a fight with me. The Flaming Amarant. Your second mistake was, you cast magic at me. And me and magic… well…"

He held his hand up, and released the magic that had stored in his body, the same magic that Fujin had used to strike him. Not many monks could 'return magic,' as the technique was called, but Amarant was the best of the best. A new tornado spell ripped through the room, slamming into Fujin this time and sending her into the air and down onto the ground. Hard.

She began to get up, very unsteadily. She coughed once, and blood splattered on the ground. He frowned. That probably wasn't a good sign. He hadn't meant to hit her that hard. Oh well.

Standing up fully, she said, "RAGE."

She shouldn't be standing. No one could take a hit like that directly and still be standing. Not when they were her size anyway. He knew something was probably ruptured inside of her. And she was still standing.

Roaring, she charged at him. She came within reach, and Amarant's fist hooked out to meet her. Ducking under it, she moved in closed, pummeling at his torso with her tiny fists. He grunted, but recovered, stepping back and slamming her in the face with a left jab, followed by an uppercut from the right. She crashed to the ground once more, where she lay for a moment, until moaning, she began to stand up again.

"Stay down," Amarant growled.

She began to move towards him again, defiance etched across her face. Looks like he'd have to kill her to get her to stop.

"Stand down!" Kain commanded.

Both of them ignored him, so focused they were on each other. Blood dribbled down Fujin's nose and lips, but anger poured from her one eye. Cracking his neck, Amarant lifted one hand and made a 'come here' gesture.

She stood her ground, and he smiled. At least she was being smart this time, waiting for him to come to her instead of just blindly charging again. He began to move towards her, slowly and inexorably.

He caught a black flicker from the corner of his eye, and stopped dead as he saw Shadow moving towards him, lightning fast. Too late. The black-clad figure ducked down low, one of his legs sliding out and taking Amarant's feet from under him. Even as he tried to get up, the ninja slammed his fist into the mercenary's face, knocking his head back.

His mind swimming in a daze from the abruptness of the impact, Amarant could only think one thing before he slipped into unconsciousness.

_Damn, he's quick._

* * *

Kain threw a few more sticks onto the fire of their newly made camp, and frowned at the unconscious girl, wrapped in what blankets they could purchase before having to flee Trabia due to their newfound unpopularity. A moment after that, the frown became directed at Amarant, also still unconscious from Shadow's attack. Watching the assassin had been, once again, impressive. A second after Kain had given the order, Shadow had forcefully separated the two in the most efficient way possible. But for now, the Dragoon had little time to be impressed. No, at the moment, he was angry. Amarant didn't seem to be working out with the group, and he hadn't even been with them for two hours. He was arrogant and disobedient. But every time Kain thought of simply returning Amarant to his home world, or stranding him on this planet, the lance conveyed a sense of doom. Amarant, for whatever reason, was needed.

As was this girl. Kain once more looked at her, trying to figure out what to do about her. After Amarant had left, Kain had once more tried to get a bearing on her with his lance, and discovered her name, Fujin, as well as a description, but little feeling for where she was. So, he'd been forced to ask around, and what he'd discovered had not impressed him.

A former member of a military organization called SeeD, Fujin had been kicked out for treasonous acts, assisting a known terrorist named Seifer, and working under a tyrannical Sorceress named Ultimecia. Moreover, since the death of Ultimecia, Fujin had disappeared alongside Seifer and another man named Raijin for some time, only to reappear later without their company, and a sudden thirst for all the strong drink she could get her hands on. She had, for reasons of her own, become an alcoholic. And the only way she had to support herself during that time was by writing songs for Trabia Reconstruction Fundraising concerts, and working as a mercenary from time to time. No one knew why she had turned to the bottle, but everyone pointed out exactly where Kain could find her.

"WHERE?"

Kain gave a small jump as the albino girl sat straight up, peering around her intently, obviously on her guard.

"Outside Trabia," Kain said. "Sorry about the rough treatment Amarant gave you. I've only recently become… acquainted with him, and already there've been difficulties. He's a bit-"

"STUPID," the girl supplied. Not insulting him from her tone. Asserting his status was closer.

"Well, I'm not so sure…" Looking to the prone form of Amarant, Kain shrugged. "Okay, maybe he is. Now, I have a proposition for you…" When she flinched, and pulled the sheet around herself tighter, he protested, "No, no. Nothing like that. Think of it as a mercenary job, but without the pay. I have a…" He looked about, instinctively seeking out Shadow and his mocking interjection. When it didn't come, he continued, "… unique situation."

He detailed out the last day, leaving out as few details as possible. He explained his personal history with Golbez, and the two being partially mind-controlled by Zemus. He deliberately left himself vague when it came to Cecil and Rosa, which Fujin narrowed her eyes at, but said nothing, and explained as much as he could about the cave, Golbez's newfound status as some sort of dimension protecting Lunarian, the little he knew about Gilgamesh, and the name… Sephiroth.

"NO."

"No?"

"NO."

Kain shook his head. This wasn't going to be easy. Then again, with his other companions so far… that seemed to be the track record. "Think it over. I'm going to relieve Shadow on watch."

* * *

Fujin frowned at Kain's back as the man walked away, and looked about her surroundings. Nearby, the one called Amarant snored. The man had probably been awake for Kain's entire explanation, but pretended to still be unconscious, and then slipped into sleep when it was all over. She didn't like him, and not just for the incident in the bar. There was just something about him… something that radiated the need to be alone, and for someone that had until recently always been attached to a posse for as long as she could remember… the very notion offended her.

It didn't matter anyway. She had no urge to be a hero. Kain said something like 'people who wanted to redeem themselves fought harder.' Or had said that Golbez had said it. It might've been true. She didn't know. But there was nothing Fujin had ever done that she'd felt the need to redeem herself for.

"So, he didn't convince you."

Fujin gave a start, reaching for her pinwheel that was tucked in her belt, under her coat. At first she couldn't see who had said the words as she surveyed the darkness, but finally, the fire flickered, and she caught the reflection of the flames in a pair of eyes staring directly at her. She met that gaze, attempting, as always, to stare it down. Not even Squall Leonhart could match her for long, but this one caught her eyes, and even though she couldn't see the rest of him, she knew he smiled a lifeless smile. Shuddering, she looked away.

A pair of boots softly sounded across the snow-covered ground, barely making the lightest of crunches. She only heard it because of her considerable sense of hearing. She looked up to see the man all in black, the man Kain had called Shadow, standing before her, looking down.

"I don't blame you," he said, crouching as he did, moving himself close to her. "You're like me. Like him," he moved a hand, never looking away from her. She kept his gaze, determined to hold onto it this time, but she knew he was pointing at Amarant. "The other two… Cyan, and Kain. They're heroes. Cyan knows it, but Kain doesn't. I watch him. All the time. I don't understand him completely, which I don't like. Cyan is an open book. Honor. Justice. Following his Lord. Following his heart. Everything is simple to him. Everything's simple to Amarant, too. Personal gain. Surviving. But at the same time, he's looking for a fight. Maybe he wants to die, as well as survive. I'm not sure. We'll see in time. Now, girl, do you think I've read you already? Are you an open book?"

"NO," she blurted, just as she always seemed to. Talking was always difficult for her. An old injury, never completely healed or cured. Her vocal chords didn't have the strength for lengthy conversation, nor the subtlety for quiet words. "DIFFERENT."

"That's what everyone says," Shadow hissed disgustedly. "Everyone thinks they're different, when in reality, they're just a copy of other people. A little piece of mother. A little dash of father. Different mixtures of tragedy and blessings. But in the end, everyone's the same as everyone else, just a different amount of ingredients."

She was about to protest against his words, at what he was implying, but then stopped. She realized what he was doing. Not for her benefit, but for his. His garb, his daggers at his belt, his eyes, the way he'd knocked both Amarant and her out at the bar. This man was a killer. He said what he said because it was his way of justifying all the death he had caused. "YOU. OPEN BOOK."

His eyes widened ever so slightly, and he nodded his head. "Exactly. Even me. There's something you should know. Even though everyone was pre-chosen by Golbez, except for Cyan… Kain's not trying to form a group of warriors to fight Sephiroth. He's doing what his instincts tell him to do. I don't know what he told you about his old friend Cecil, his friend… his rival. But Kain wants that relationship back at some level. He's looking for another … extended family."

Fujin's good eye widened at that. Something seemed to click into place; as if that's what she'd been waiting to hear. She needed to confirm it. "POSSE?"

Standing up, Shadow began to walk away, but not before tossing an offhand comment of "Sure" her way. She twisted the blanket in her hands about, and looked to the sleeping Amarant, in the direction Shadow retreated, and to where Kain was probably standing watch. And she made her decision.


	10. Elsewhere

Chapter Ten

Elsewhere

Quistis had just extracted the data from the computer core (Carraway's tech guys had engineered a device which could tap into the server and then dump all of the data straight onto a backup memory device Quistis held without any sort of delay, she couldn't figure out quite how it was physically possible yet) when the lights went out. This was both good and bad, as she had rescued the data before the power failed yet something had made the power fail. She didn't panic when one of the computer panels sparked open behind her, and she didn't panic when the door wouldn't open to let her out of the small computer core room.

The blood curdling shriek echoing down the corridors of the facility made her blood freeze, but not panic. That would happen in a few minutes time.

She wrenched the door open and on an emergency release it slid open to allow her into the secondary chamber for accessing the computer room. The corridor had a door that led to a small passage leading to another door, which then let a person access the computer core. Quistis was now in this smaller security passage.

But, she hadn't expected it to be flooded when she opened the door. She slid through the opening before she could stop herself, and then it closed again behind her, leaving Quistis up to her waist in an inky looking fluid.

A loosened power cable sparked in the blackness next to her, and she tensed on reflex, preparing to feel several thousand volts sweeping through her body as the cable dipped into the fluid seeping around her.

Such a feeling was not forthcoming.

Quistis scanned her memory to try and identify this fluid, and was successful after approximately thirty seconds. She remembered Wells talking about a stealth generator concealing the entrance – the Galbadians didn't have the ability to create such technology, and must have stolen it from Esthar.

Her eyes darted back and forth in the flickering darkness, as if reading an article concerning her current situation. Esthar stealth generators, which she had learned about during her stay there, generated so much heat that the scientists had had to create a new cooling liquid, called Xerophene, that kept the generators at an operational temperature because existing ones had been ignited due to the massive electrical field generated by the enormous structures, and didn't conduct electricity because of its chemical structure.

"Think, Quistis, think," she muttered to herself. Within two minutes she would be dead. She was safe as long as it was only Xerophene in the chamber with her, but the clear looking liquid seeping from another gap in the wall on the far side of the corridor, if not water, was probably flammable. Xerophene didn't conduct electricity, but water did – she had as much time as it took for the water to diffuse through the Xerophene until she was cooked alive by the electrical current.

No matter how hard she tried, a solution to her problem was not forthcoming, and panic started to grip her chest.

* * *

Squall ran forward and into the storage room as soon as the lights darkened, and he somehow sensed Seifer moving with him. What made him run is the shriek that had emanated just further down the corridor. Squall slowly glanced around the corner of the door and saw a massive shape thump into the corridor after finishing off whoever it had encountered. An electric cable sparked and Squall vaguely made out its features – man shaped, but with four arms that ended in wickedly sharp edges, either blades or part of its natural geography. Maybe this was what the Galbadians had been researching.

He darted back around into the storage room as it grunted and turned towards where Squall and Seifer lay hidden. Squall heard it move slowly up the corridor towards them. He moved to the other side of the room where he had spotted an air duct before the lights had died.

Suddenly a light snapped on behind him. Seifer, inexplicably dressed back in his customary white coat, held an emergency flashlight in one hand and the Hyperion in the other.

"It'll tear you apart," hissed Squall, to which Seifer scoffed.

"I killed a GF, I think I can manage one measly research specimen," he said loftily. With that, he walked out into the corridor with Squall watching half in horror and half in grudging respect. He heard one of the two become crushed into the wall separating the storage room and the corridor, and he didn't especially want to find out which of the two had survived – the four-armed thing because it had made easy work of Seifer, or Seifer because he would never hear the end of it. He clambered up the air vent.

* * *

The first thing to get out of the way was to try the door on the other side, but Quistis found it was impossible to wedge open. With time rapidly running out she looked to the ceiling at to her salvation – whatever had forced the pipes to burst had also wedged the air duct above the corridor open. Frantically she climbed up onto a pile of debris and hauled herself into the open air vent above. In her haste, she ripped her contamination suit in several places but her haste was well deserved – a few seconds after her escape she heard the almost mute hum of electricity fill the air. Out of breath, she clambered further down the vent and to figure out what the hell was going on in this strange place.

* * *

Irvine had been poking around the head researcher's desk when the lights had died. This, he could guess, was not necessarily a good thing, and he knew for certain when the screaming had started that it was a bad thing. He drew his gun and walked to the door of the office. Tactically it was bad to become trapped in a small confined space, so he went with his instincts, which told him to find the way back outside.

Unfortunately, Irvine didn't have the best sense of direction and with no illumination to guide the way, soon became hopelessly lost in the maze of corridors the facility consisted of.

He had begun to give up all hope when he became convinced there was a light ahead of him. Ignoring the part of his brain that told him it was just a hallucination, he headed towards this source of illumination and hoped for the best.

Rounding the corner where the faint source of light could be found he stopped in his tracks.

"Wow," he whispered.

The light was coming from a device in the centre of what must have been the focus of study at the research facility. A metal cradle held a softly glowing orb which pulsated gently, casting faint shadows of the furniture and other apparatus onto the walls of the large (relative to the rest of the facility) chamber he now stood in.

He paced up to the device and studied it closely, and whether or not the device's nature would have eluded Squall or Quistis he couldn't say, although he suspected his less than epic imagination limited him somewhat in drawing conclusions. Suffice to say, Irvine had no idea what the sphere did, and so he backed away from it in order to study the readouts on one of the screens, which evidently had a separate power source from the rest of the facility.

_Anomaly power output at 80 of norm,_ it read.

Irvine tapped at the keyboard set in front of the monitor, but after it didn't respond to his repeated attempts realised its output cable had been cut. He held up the offending piece of cable in contention and then dropped it. Irvine suddenly remembered that he most likely wasn't alone in the facility, and just as he turned to check his surroundings one hand clamped onto his left shoulder, another across his mouth. He tried to shout in surprise but the sound was muffled, and he started to struggle against his attacker.

He stopped when he saw Quistis, who raised a finger to his lips. He twisted around to see Squall, looking slightly irritated. Irvine freed himself from Squall's now loose grasp.

"You could have given a signal, or something!" he hissed.

"Like what, an owl hooting?" retorted Squall.

Irvine let this comment pass, and turned instead to Quistis. "What's going on?"

Quistis raised her eyebrow when she saw the computer monitor but answered Irvine's question. "We don't know. Squall was attacked by some kind of lab specimen, and I was nearly killed on the way out of the computer core."

"Well I found this thing," said Irvine, the soft tones of his voices echoing off the metal walls around them. "Although I've got no idea what it does."

They observed the sphere for a moment, before Squall finally spoke again.

"Looks like some kind of…" But he trailed off, at a loss for words.

Quistis had found the keyboard and started to tap at the keys before she reached the same conclusion as Irvine had.

"It doesn't work," provided Irvine helpfully as Quistis studied the severed output cable.

"What an astute observation."

"It's been cut," said Squall.

"So?" asked Irvine.

"So, someone in here has wilfully committed sabotage."

"Caraway said he'd 'arranged' for this chemical spill, there's probably someone working on the inside, and sabotaged the lab equipment so any salvage operation wouldn't be able to retrieve the research here," supplied Quistis.

Irvine persisted: "What about the monitor? Wouldn't they have blown that, too?"

"Maybe they assumed it would fail with the power cut. Or, maybe it's just unimportant. All it's displaying is a power readout, it doesn't even tell us what this 'anomaly' is."

"Alright, I guess so. Hey, can anyone remember the way out?"

Suddenly the readout blinked, and a beep emitted from inside the unit. A high pitched whine increased in intensity until Squall, Irvine and Quistis were covering their ears in pain. It continued increasing until the noise passed out of their range of hearing, and Quistis glanced at the readout:

_Anomaly power output at 9000 of norm, _and it was increasing rapidly.

The sphere started to pulsate and grow slightly, but it was constricted by the device surrounding it. It began to glow with a ferocious intensity.

_Anomaly power output at 15000 of norm._

A low growl echoed from the darkness behind them, from deeper inside the facility. Irvine glanced fearfully into the blackness.

"I'm guessing these two things are related somehow," he put forward.

The sphere had begun to spin rapidly, forcing dust to fall from the ceiling where the surrounding device was attached. Footsteps could be heard along with the growls – whatever it was was getting closer.

_Anomaly power output at 26000 of norm._ A new message started to blink in warning red beneath it: _Danger – stabilising device stress levels increasing to critical._

An alarm started to buzz from elsewhere in the room, followed by another, and then three more. More dust was falling from the ceiling.

"Uhm, guys?" asked Irvine. "Do we have a plan here?"

Squall had drawn his gunblade, ready to meet whatever was now crashing down the corridor, and Quistis was frantically leafing through discarded notes in the lab. Irvine noticed another threat to their continued survival – liquid was beginning to seep through the far wall and down onto the floor; already a large pool had started to gather, and it was steadily getting bigger.

Quistis gave a cry just as another alarm started to beep: _Anomaly power output at 37000 of norm._

"Quickly!" she shouted, grabbing Irvine and then Squall by the shoulder and dragging them as she ran towards the mysterious anomaly. Irvine just had time to see a spray of chemical burst from the wall and soak the apparatus before Quistis had pulled them forward and into the pulsating sphere –

- And suddenly he was outside, collapsing to the dusty ground, inhaling a lungful of dirt and starting to cough fitfully. It took him a second to realise that wasn't the only reason he was coughing – the fumes must have been building steadily inside the lab and only now, breathing pure oxygen, could his brain register that he had been inhaling contaminated fumes.

He looked up weakly, and saw Quistis was also coughing, but managing a more dignified stance than Irvine, who had collapsed to the ground – on her knees, hands leaning on her thighs for support. Squall was holding his gunblade oddly, staring forwards. Irvine's field of vision expanded as he turned his head to include the crowd of people staring at them, partly with fear, partly with surprise, and partly with hostility.

Irvine reached for his gun, but snapped his head back suddenly when a cascade of fluid appeared out of thin air and drenched him up to his chest. Quistis leaped back to avoid the flow but Squall's legs were likewise covered before the two men scrambled back as a gasp escaped the assembled crowd.

"Quickly -" called Quistis, but before she could finish her sentence Irvine could feel the chemicals burning through his overalls, and he tore them open and kicked them off as quickly as he could manage. A quick glance at Squall saw his overalls cling to his foot, but a frantic kicking motion soon dislodged them. Irvine, glad to have kept his normal clothes on under the overalls – and equally if not more glad that Squall had done the same – found himself in the proverbial spotlight of the assembled crowd of thirty or so people.

They looked a dejected group, all dressed in little more than rags, covered in dirt and with a desperate look in their eyes only poverty could bring. Irvine didn't know whether he'd have to beat them off as they tried to mug them or comfort them as they broke down crying. They stood in the centre of a small clearing, surrounded by what looked like scrap metal, and on one side Irvine thought a hulking mass of rubble could have once been a house, but he wasn't sure. The only familiar thing about the whole thing was the sky, from which the sun shone cheerfully down on the assembled crowd.

"Quickly, over here!" shouted a young voice, and Irvine watched as a child of no more then twelve rounded a mound of scrap and pointed towards them fitfully. He glanced down at his gun, but found it had been hopelessly corroded by the chemical flow.

He wished it had functioned as the biggest cat he had ever seen rounded the heap and glared intensely at the three strangers. Its singular eye burned with a primal strength, only reinforced by the absence of the other, which had doubtlessly been torn out in a vicious fight, judging from the scars covering its body. Irvine was more unnerved by the flaming fur covering the animal, and the bright light burning from the point of its tail – if he hadn't suspected they had travelled to another world then the idea had set firmly in his mind now. He knew nothing of the world he knew could look anything like what he saw now.

The cat padded forward on massive paws, sitting down on its haunches just outside the attack range of Squall's gunblade.

"Fascinating," said Red XIII.

* * *

Author's Note: For the holidays, FT will be moving to a once a week schedule. Normal updates will be put back on track when announced. 


	11. Valentine

They were all gathered. Twelve they numbered, all of different shapes, sizes, forms and stations. To one side was a handsome prince, flanked by a burly man with the grace of a cat to one side, and a young woman with flowing green hair. Sifting through the rubble, sniffing as if a dog, a white yeti tore away chunks of wood and flung them aside, while a small boy dressed in rags followed him, similarly sniffing. Limberly picking his way through the wreckage was a young man, dressed in blue, a fake grin on his face despite the sorrow that permeated the air. A blond warrioress picked over the bodies of the dead, those that had attacked the inn, but kept a mindful eye on the thief. A girl with a bandana wrapped about her forehead sat staring at what had once been an inn, stunned at the sight. She'd been like that since it had happened. Watching over her were an old man, and her faithful dog, which lay at her feet. And to another side stood a Moogle, watching it all helplessly, but unsure of how to join his companions in this moment.

Setzer let out a sigh. They'd all known this would happen one day. One of their own had finally fallen, but they'd never expected it like this. Cyan, fighting an unknown battle in the middle of a burning inn, killed by his surroundings collapsing on his head. Worse, there had been no sign of his body. Of any body inside the inn, despite that witnesses claimed that the innkeeper had still been inside, as well as at least one patron. But one question was on everyone's lips.

Whose. Fault. Was. It.

Sabin had immediately wanted to leap into action, but his brother had ordered against it, wanting to find out as much about the crime scene as possible, investigating it from every angle. Celes had questioned as many people as she could find, while Locke questioned those she couldn't. Relm was near comatose, not saying a word in the face of the tragedy, and her only companions that could keep her calm were Strago and Interceptor. Umaro and Gau tore through wreckage, using their animal-like senses to find what they could. Mog tried to cheer everyone up. And Terra just stared at the wreckage, as if seeing something no one else could see.

All the while, Setzer watched, stunned. He was a gambler, and knew risk very well. He'd run blindly into many battles, and taken unnecessary hits, and delivered unbelievable ones in return. That was the way the game was played. High stakes, and Setzer always won. But this time, the house took, and it took without reason.

Cyan was dead, and no one knew why.

A full day had passed since the 'Battle of Clyde's Tavern.' In the space of a day, Strago had managed to get a messenger pigeon to one of Setzer's offices. From there, he'd been radioed, and upon learning the situation, immediately grabbed everyone from their old group with his airship. And then began the investigation.

Save the three that were said to still be inside, Relm and Strago had safely evacuated everyone else. None of those that had participated in the fight for the opposite side were left alive. The bodies of the deceased were ordered neatly outside the inn, where Celes now looked over them, searching for clues as to who they were.

"Has anyone contacted Lola yet?" Edgar asked. The question was directed at no one in particular, just to whomever had the answer.

"No," Strago answered. "We figgered we might as well find a body to give her first. She never did see the body of the last man in her life. I figger we owe her this much."

Edgar nodded dumbly, and Setzer knew how the man felt. He was in shock. They all were. A feeling of perpetual numbness has settled over everyone. Never had they ever dreamed that something like this would happen. After fighting a God, to be killed in a skirmish against common ruffians…

"Shadow!"

Everyone jerked from their reverie to stare at Celes, who held up a blood-covered shuriken, almost triumphantly. Quickly everyone gathered around her, looking at the little piece of metal. It was an uncommon weapon. Not many people used shuriken anymore with guns becoming more popular, but it wasn't rare enough to assume that it was Shadow who had thrown it.

"Are you sure?" Edgar asked.

"Positive," Celes responded. "The shuriken itself isn't proof enough, but… look at the wounds. Some of these men died from some sort of spear, and others from Cyan's katana, but look here…"

She pointed at the one body she stood over, at the man's throat. Though the wound had been opened more from Celes digging the throwing star out, the opening was at the dead center of the corpse's throat. She pointed to another body that had a similar injury, and then another. All of them had wounds in their throats. All at the direct middle.

"So we know that whoever threw it had good aim," Sabin said after a minute. "It doesn't mean that Shadow was here."

"We don't even know if he's alive," Locke added.

"It was him," Setzer affirmed, looking at the bodies. Other men had died of other injuries. Small slashes and stabs, some not in particularly fatal places, but the men were still dead. All about the wounds were red, angry sores that extended up arms, down legs, and across torsos. Not many used poisoned weapons, and ever fewer used the rare poisons from Shadow's daggers. The gambler pointed out his findings, and people began to nod their heads.

"Do we have any more proof?" Edgar asked.

"Interceptor was actin' weird," Strago said. "Dog was actin' like… well, he was glad to see someone. 'Specially the dang inn… keeper. That son of a bitch was Shadow! I should've know, dagnabbit! I should've known! He looked just like that other bastard, too!"

"Looked like what bastard?" Locke asked.

But Strago was too busy fuming and sputtering random curses to answer. The man was steadily turning red, and Setzer quickly began to worry about the old geezer's heart.

"Daddy," Relm said.

Everyone gave a start and stared at her, not knowing what to say. Terra was the first to speak. "There's something in the air."

They weren't the words anyone expected, but she continued, "I can feel it… Something's here. Or was… everywhere. I can almost see it. Sparks of light? Doorways? Is it… magic?"

"Magic's dead," Locke scoffed, but Terra wasn't paying attention to him, absently staring at nothing, her eyes focused on nothing they could see.

"Terra?" Setzer asked.

She walked towards the ruins of the inn, her feet crunching on ash, pushing past the friends who had gathered around her. "He came here… didn't belong, but he was here. Took him. Both of them? Took both of them…" With every step, a familiar pink aura began to surround her. "I can… can reach them, I think. It might be dangerous but… If I hurry, I can find where they went."

"Someone stop her!" Edgar cried, but it was too late.

The aura about her body flared to life in a wave of energy, pushing everyone away. Her skin and hair changed colour, flickering to pink to match the spirit flowing about her. A roar sounded, and the group of friends was flattened to the ground as a … hole… opened up in the air, a brilliant blue tunnel. Terra hovered in front of it, arms outstretched.

"There! They're there!" she cried.

Setzer stood up, uncertain of his movements, as space seemed to lose all meaning. A wave of disorientation filled him; up seemed down, down seemed left, and all about him didn't make sense anymore. Dimly, he was aware that Locke was also up, and the others were struggling to also battle against the sudden sense of vertigo.

Closing his eyes, Setzer lunged forward, to where he knew Terra had been a moment before the ground had become the sky. He impacted against something, and slammed it to the ground. Opening his eyes, he gave out a sigh of relief as he saw that the portal was gone, and the sense of vertigo had passed.

Terra had reverted back to her original form, that of a green-haired beauty, but her eyes were closed, her body limp. Shaking her gently, he tried to rouse her. "Wake up, Terra."

Panicked, her shook her harder, and then heard Celes say, "Where's Locke?"

Chapter Eleven

Valentine

A new world shimmered into view, the old fading to black, a snow-covered valley replaced by lush green fields, and gray mountains looming in the distance. Night was now midday. Almost as an automatic response now, Kain lifted up his lance and began to concentrate, searching out their final traveling companion with it.

The lance immediately jerked in his hand, pointing out a direction to the north, and a feeling of fire emanated from the lance, as if pure anger coursed up and down its length. It was a feeling similar to the one he'd gotten when trying to locate Fujin, but at the same time, very, very different.

"Who's our next target?" Amarant asked.

Shaking his head, Kain looked at the lance, then in the direction it had pointed. Not a tug, this time. The weapon had moved by itself to point out the target. Did it have something to do with Cyan's presence? Was teleporting around with an extra person weighing it down, weakening it?

"I'm not sure," Kain admitted. "But we're headed north."

The group traveled quickly, walking under the afternoon sky, which quickly turned to dusk. Kain stood at forefront, and Cyan took up the rear, his hand always on his weapon. Shadow was scouting somewhere ahead, keeping to the little darkness there was, while Amarant and Fujin were in the middle of the group, very pointedly ignoring each other's presence.

Kain still wasn't sure what had changed Fujin's mind, but at this point, he was willing to go with it. While on watch, he'd considered having to kidnap her and forcibly drag her along like he had accidentally done to Shadow and Cyan. It was the kind of action Cecil would never have done, but Kain had deliberately thought it out, even tried to justify it.

They traveled for several hours, the sun disappearing entirely with the departure of dusk, and as full night descended, they entered a small mountain town, tucked away in the mountains. Even as they walked towards it, Kain could feel a foreboding presence coming from the settlement. Something about the town seemed off. Wrong.

His next step came slower than the last, the one after that, even slower. He knew nothing of this town, and something told him he wanted it to stay that way. He caught a flicker of motion to his side, and let out a sigh of relief as Shadow seemingly materialized from the darkness.

"Small town," he reported. "I went in, spoke with some of the locals. They seemed… friendly, but distant. I can't place it. Something isn't right here. I don't like it."

Kain nodded. "What's the town called?"

"Nibelheim."

The word was punctuated with a sound that was much like thunder, yet shorter clipped, and with no lightning accompanying it. Ducking down, Kain readied himself for a fight, looking all about himself for the source. He noticed grimly that Shadow was doing the same, both daggers out, and also instinctively knew that Cyan, Amarant and Fujin probably had their weapons drawn as well.

"What was that?" Kain asked.

"Sounded like a cannon, but not quite," Amarant muttered.

"GUN," Fujin said, and then added, "STUPID."

"The fair damsel is right," Cyan said. "Many times I've heard the utterances of guns, the weapons of Emperor Gestahl, and I believe she is correct."

_What's a gun?_ Kain found himself thinking, but shook off the question. His lance felt as if it were burning, a sense of impending doom coursing up the shaft and into his arms, filling him with dread. Something horrible was happening in Nibelheim, but what, he didn't know.

Another blast sounded, followed by another, and then another. Kain found himself moving before he could think of a course of action, charging into the village, his spear held before him. Several buildings rush passed him in a blur, until he made his way into the town square, an open space occupied only by a great water tower, and two men.

The first of the two was a man in a maroon cloak, black hair flying all about him, giving him a wild appearance, and had an odd weapon held aloft in one hand. It had three barrels, and some sort of handle, but still looked like some sort of miniaturized cannon. But none of these traits captured Kain's attention more than the man's eyes, glowing red as they were in the moonlight.

"I hate guns," Kain heard Shadow mutter.

The other man seemed perfect serenity. Black coat held closely about him, and long, silver hair that kept to his body, as if hugging it, despite the wind. A sword with an impossibly long blade was held loosely, yet perfectly, in the warrior's gloved hands. Everything about him screamed control and perfection. Before Kain was fully aware of it, he had already named them in his mind. 'The Demon' and 'the Warrior.'

"Either of these mooks the one we want?" Amarant asked.

"I'm not sure," Kain said, concentrating on his spear.

The maroon-caped one exploded into action, firing off his weapon at the white-haired figure, who casually deflected the shots with his sword. The Warrior retaliated by charging at the Demon, covering the distance in long strides, his sword swinging in a graceful arc. The Demon managed to neatly side-step, narrowly dodging the attack, but only barely, and lifted one arm, a metallic looking claw, to protecting his face from the follow-up slash. Sparks flew as the silver blade caught itself on the golden arm.

Even as the fight progressed, Kain felt a sudden distress from the lance, it screaming in his head that this fight was wrong, the attack was wrong. He looked between both combatants, and leaped into the air, his instincts taking over.

Sailing through the air, he adjusted his weapon, which was tugging angrily in his grip, pointing to the Warrior. The Dragoon understood. Something was wrong with it, and it was trying to tell him that this white-haired man was the next to join their cause. Which meant that the Demon was the enemy.

Crashing down, the Demon only narrowly avoided the attack, backpedaling away from this newest attacker. The Warrior similarly backed away as Kain launched a full out assault against the maroon-caped man, his spear twirling about in a blur as he swung it like a staff. The Demon looked chagrined, but backed away and fired his weapon. Kain stumbled back, taking two shots in the chest, his breastplate absorbing the hit. Still he was left gasping from the impact.

He didn't need to recover quickly, though. Cyan was instantly there, sword slashing in focused strikes, while the Demon retreated, backing away with all his speed. Fujin was waiting for him. A circular throwing disc in one hand, she jabbed at him, the attack coming in low. The man narrowly jerked his body backwards, just missing the attack, and finding a new opponent behind him. Shadow's attack did not miss. Foot connected with the Demon's head, followed up by a nerve strike to the man's spine. The Demon froze up, his body becoming rigid and paralyzed.

Kain, still struggling for breath, used his spear as a walking stick. Still he could feel a sense of anger coursing up and down its length, and an odd tug. He ignored it for now. Time to interrogate the prisoner.

He moved in closely, but on his guard, the man standing stiffly, but still had a look in his eyes, like an animal that would never truly be imprisoned.

"The nerve strike should keep his body still from the shoulders down. He can talk," Shadow said.

Nodding, Kain said, "What's your name?"

The Demon locked eyes with him, those awful red orbs glaring a baleful anger. He growled, "Who are you to interfere? Do you know what you've just done?"

"Your name," Kain repeated, making it a demand, rather than a question with his tone, adding a certain authority to it by holding his lance in a more menacing manner.

"Vincent Valentine." The man said it as if he didn't care about the veiled threat Kain had just made.

"Good. Now, enlighten me. What have we just done?"

"You just let the son ofJenova escape. You just let Sephiroth go free."

Kain spun around, looking for the white-haired warrior, feeling a fool. The name of Sephiroth sent a renewed feeling of hatred flowing through its length, and Kain now knew what it had been trying to tell him. And then, looking about, he realized something.

"Where's Amarant?"


	12. The Cat and the Turk

Chapter Twelve

The Cat and the Turk

"Wait, wait, wait," said Irvine, obviously completely out of his league. "It can _talk?_"

The cat fixed him with a stare. "I'll talk as much as you want later, sir. Now is the time for you to talk."

"It's probably better that I talk," said Squall, giving Irvine a laconic stare. "I think he needs a bit of time to readjust."

"Very well. Who are you?"

"Look, I can understand that this is very strange but you must understand, its stranger for us than it could possibly be for you," said Quistis. "We aren't here to harm anyone, and we are willing to answer your questions, but why don't we move to more comfortable surroundings?"

This raised a few desperate giggles from the assembled crowd. Squall gave them a puzzled look.

"This is about as comfortable as it gets in Midgar, miss." An uncomfortable silence stretched between them, and then the cat spoke again. "My name is Red, and I appreciate your willingness in this matter. Come with me, and I will answer any questions you may have, on the condition you allow me the same courtesy."

Quistis nodded, and they followed Red out of the compound, the crowd melting aside to allow him unrestrained movement. It was obvious they respected him greatly.

They walked out of the clearing and onto what appeared to be some kind of main road constructed entirely of dirt. Red gave instructions that no-one should enter the clearing while the trio of newcomers regarded their new surroundings with uncontained fascination.

"Please, walk with me," said Red after a few moments, leading them down the street.

"Like, this may seem like a stupid question," started Irvine, and Squall restrained himself from commenting that Irvine needn't worry about sounding stupid; that they were all used to it by now. "But where are we?"

"This is Midgar," said Red with mildly sarcastic grandiose. "Until recently a grand centre of trade, technology and civilisation. And since then…" He trailed off.

"We get the idea," finished Irvine tactfully. Then he paused for a moment. "Well, actually…we don't," he finished lamely.

"If you haven't heard of Midgar before, and especially if you don't know what happened to it, then I would theorise that you're either hermits, or you aren't from around here," said Red. "And by 'here,' I refer to anywhere in this world."

"That bad?"

"You couldn't begin to imagine."

Squall and Quistis exchanged a wry glance, and had Red seen it, he might have guessed that catastrophic, earth threatening events weren't new to any of them, but they left it unsaid.

"I think you're right," said Quistis instead. "I think we've travelled across a dimensional barrier and this world is operating on some kind of parallel to ours."

There was a moment until this information was absorbed by the males. "Cool," said Irvine.

"So you're from another world entirely?" asked Red, sounding slightly incredulous. "I must admit, I was merely being sarcastic when I just suggested it as an explanation for your lack of knowledge."

"As far as I can tell, that's the only explanation that can account for what's happened to us. There isn't any devastated city called Midgar in our world, and there certainly aren't any large talking animals that I'm aware of. No offense," she added quickly.

"None taken," said Red.

Quistis continued. "The closest thing I could describe you as is a Moomba, and that would be pushing incredulity too much to be feasible. You're much too large."

"And dangerous looking," added Irvine helpfully. "Moombas are kind of cute, and you're…well…" he decided to trail off into silence before he got himself into too much trouble with their benefactor.

"Have you heard of the Garden?" asked Squall. "Deling City? Galbadia? The Sorceress? Esthar?" With each question, he received a negative response from their guide. "I think that proves our two worlds are different."

"Assuming you're telling the truth."

"You just saw us fall out of thin air followed by a waterfall of toxic chemicals," said Quistis.

Red was silent for a moment, and then nodded slowly. "I suppose in that context, it's reasonable to assume your explanation is partially correct. Why don't you tell me exactly what led you here, and I can judge further for myself whether I believe your story."

They related their tale of the black market deal, their capture and subsequent escape from the local authorities and their deal with the General that led them to the portal, and to Red's world.

"Well, I can draw two conclusions from your story. You're telling the truth, or you've been driven mad by whatever you experienced. However I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt and entertain your story further."

"We could prove it to you, if our route back to the world we're familiar with wasn't blocked by the chemical spill," protested Quistis.

"Yes, how convenient that the only way of proving your story true has been taken away from you."

"That's not the only way," said Squall. "We told you, we're here to evaluate a possible threat to global - our world's – global security. If you can help us in our investigation then it might lead us to another portal, and to a means to prove us right."

"And if not?"

"Well…what else are you going to do?" asked Irvine bluntly. Red glanced around the slum they were walking through and paused a moment before responding.

"Good enough point. I suppose it won't hurt to go along with your story for a little while. You say you were in a research facility?" he asked.

"Yeah," said Irvine. "It was like, falling apart though, I wouldn't let anyone go near that clearing."

"I wasn't planning on it. It's curious that no-one has accidentally ventured through to your world from ours."

Squall and Quistis exchanged a glance, and Red spotted the gap in the conversation.

"Or…is there something I'm unaware of?"

"Your world has magic, right?" asked Squall. Red nodded. "In our world, we have no ability to use magic. Only monsters and the occasional female, the Sorceress, are born with the ability to use magic naturally. We have to battle or capture monsters and extract magic spells from them, what we call Drawing, and then we have a stock of magic to use, and once the supply has gone we have to Draw magic."

"Intriguing," said Red. "The process is very different here, though ultimately it ends with the same result. We possess objects known as Materia, which are the condensed form of a part of the Planet called the Lifestream, which is the collective life spirit of people, trees, animals, plants, and the Planet itself. We draw on the power and knowledge contained within the materia, and this allows us to cast magical spells."

"That's very interesting," said Quistis. "I wonder how closely linked our worlds are in relation to the type and power of magic?" They had quickly established that they were in another world entirely, with nowhere like Midgar existing in their own.

"I suppose it would take experimentation. I'm curious to know, how is it you store your magic? Materia is a physical object we attach to our weapons and armour, yet I see no such thing upon your clothes or weaponry."

"Our GFs take care of it for us," said Irvine, puzzled. _Everyone_ knew about GFs.

Evidently not Red. "GFs...?"

Squall and Irvine exchanged a glance. While not an integral part of their whole world, Balamb Garden could not exist without GFs. A world without them made them reassess just how different this dimension was to their own.

"A GF is a Guardian Force. We become attached to them, usually through defeating them in combat, occasionally through Drawing them from others in combat. We can summon them to fight on our behalf, and they strengthen us by Junctioning the magic we provide them through Drawing, which empowers certain parts of our skill base, like our vitality or our strength."

"We have creatures we summon in combat, although the bond between us isn't anywhere near as complicated as your GFs. Are there any side effects to such a close bond?"

"Well…there is evidence that GFs are responsible for limited memory loss, although if you're aware of the danger you can keep a journal or some other way of refreshing your memory. And outside stimulus can restore the lost memories, so it's unclear whether GFs erase or simply displace the memories, in order to make the mental link possible between us," answered Quistis.

"I find this exchange to have been very informative, however you didn't answer my previous question," said Red. "Is there something which brought you here? Has something of my world travelled to yours?"

"It all depends on the answer to another question," said Squall. He produced the small, green stone they had suffered so much trouble to acquire and keep hold of. "Is this Materia?"

Red glanced at the stone, then nodded slowly.

"Then yes, our worlds have affected each other more than you know."

* * *

"A government conspiracy, you say?"

"Not a conspiracy, as such…but it's all definitely going through back channels."

"Hmm," said Red. They sat in his habitat, which was essentially the shell of an old house, the floor of which was covered in blankets. He obviously didn't keep much bipedal company. "That's interesting but I'm not sure how I can help you in your predicament."

"You don't have to help us with our government, but we would like to track where this materia came from," said Squall. "We may have crossed dimensions, but our mission is still the same – discover the source of this weapon. Simply because we know what it is now doesn't mean we've succeeded in our objective,"

"Understood. I can't help you from that piece of materia as it's all very similar, however I might be able to track our culprit from the area the portal resides in."

"Track?"

"Yes, if not by witnesses then by scent."

He received strange glances from his three guests, then tapped his snout with a paw. They nodded in realisation. Talking with the cat was enough to break their subconscious barrier into the category of 'human' and they had trouble in fully remembering he had abilities to suit his rather unique form.

Back at the clearing the portal lay in, there were already a group of children throwing stones into the seemingly empty air and watching them disappear with no indication as to where they had gone. They fled shouting as Red snapped at them, although they seemed to know he wouldn't actually have bitten them. He padded over to the now soaking mud and started to sniff around, cautiously skipping away when a small amount of the corrosive chemical seeped over the invisible barrier and splashed the mud beneath.

"Hey Quisty," said Irvine. "How come we can't see the portal on this side?"

"The Galbadians probably had some way of making it visible, most likely with that stabilising device we saw surrounding the portal. And before you ask, I don't know why its energy output increased before we travelled through it. Also, the creature didn't follow us because the way was blocked by the corrosive fluid, I'd imagine, so it's either dead from the fumes or trying to wade through, or still trapped on the other side."

Irvine nodded, but thought of another question Quistis hadn't anticipated. "How'd you know we'd travel to another dimension? You seemed to be able to explain to Red what had happened pretty easily…"

"In the report you took from the police headquarters in Timber, it stated that the scientists had theorised the stone – materia, rather – had come from space or that it was extra dimensional. I thought that was an odd thing to have written about it, but once I started to read the lab notes they increasingly referred to the anomaly as a portal, and I pieced the two items of information together. The portal was some kind of rip in the fabric of reality, and we travelled through it."

"Oh. Right."

Red rejoined them, and reported that although the scent of the chemicals had destroyed much of the evidence at the clearing he could recognise a scent that matched something someone had told him previously, but what it was he wouldn't say, except that he was fairly certain of who was responsible of transferring the materia through the portal.

He led them through back alleys and wide streets, telling them they were going to see who he suspected. Squall couldn't help but think they were seeing just a small part of this city, and it was really on a massive scale, yet he couldn't quite comprehend the total destruction it would take to devastate a city of that size.

Apparently he wasn't alone in his thoughts. Irvine began to ask Red questions.

"So tell me about Midgar, Red."

Red sighed, but began talking, as if it was hard for him to do so. "Midgar used to be a sprawling metropolis, powered by eight Mako reactors and run by the Shinra Corporation."

"Mako? Shinra?"

"Mako is Shinra's term for the Lifestream, and they used to drain it through reactors to sell it as electricity. Shinra is, or was, a massive company that used to run its global operations from here in the centre of Midgar. I was, and I suppose I still am, part of a group known as Avalanche that stood against the tyranny and blatant disregard for the environment Shinra displayed."

"So what happened to Midgar?"

"It's a very long story, but to cut it short the Planet itself fought back against Shinra with massive creatures, born of the Planet, called Weapons. There was a four way war, a melee of annihilation, and after it was ended this was all that is left of Midgar."

"You've only mentioned three parties," said Squall.

"Yes…the fourth was a warrior called Sephiroth who transcended death and tried to kill the Planet, or at least gain lordship over it, the process of which would cripple the Planet and kill everything on it."

"So who did this to Midgar?"

"Sephiroth did, although I suppose we all played a part in the ultimate end of the conflict. He summoned Meteor, using the mythical Black Materia. Meteor is a Planet killer, and with the wound it would create he could control all life that would then exist in the Lifestream – everything in the world having been killed by Meteor. We tried to release Holy using the White Materia to stop Sephiroth, but we were too late…Meteor was too close to the Planet, and Holy, although trying to save the rest of the Planet, couldn't stop the effects of the conflict between it and Meteor reaching here, to Midgar, which Meteor hung over. The Lifestream eventually reinforced Holy, but not until the entire city was devastated."

"Ouch," said Irvine tactfully.

"The sum of the destruction is increased when you consider there used to be a plate hanging over each sector of Midgar; you couldn't see the sky from where we were standing a year ago. A city on a city, if you will."

"How many sectors in Midgar?" asked Quistis.

"Eight," said Red. "What made it worse is that we foolishly told as many people as we could to take refuge in Midgar's slums, assuming the plates above would afford some measure of protection against Meteor. Instead it was drawn here, and many more people died."

"So only Avalanche is left now?" asked Squall.

"Essentially. The Weapons were mostly killed, Sephiroth was destroyed and although certain elements of Shinra survived, they can never operate on the same scale as they did again. At least, not for many, many years. I understand some of my old companions pursued the total destruction of Shinra, destroying all the remaining Mako Reactors, but I didn't see the need in mercilessly destroying a crippled enemy."

"Sounds like you won then," said Irvine.

"Yes, but was the price worth paying?" asked Red. "We may have been forced into our actions by the actions of others, yet it troubles me, the scale of the destruction wrought in the name of our conflict. Midgar is only the tip of the proverbial iceberg. The world economy was crippled when Shinra Headquarters was destroyed – tens of thousands, if not millions of people lost their livelihood when the infrastructure of the company collapsed. The Mako Reactors stopped providing electricity to their towns, leaving people cold and in the dark. The beginnings of a terrible famine are starting to show as trade routes have suffered with lack of co-ordination, personnel, vehicles, fuel, suppliers, buyers…"

"The world has fallen into chaos, then."

"Essentially, yes. I don't doubt that ultimately the Planet will flourish without Shinra, however to the Planet the suffering of these people is not worthy of the basest of attentions, yet to me it is becoming unbearable."

Not knowing what to say in reply to this, Squall and the others remained silent until Red dropped to his haunches and howled at a building in front of them.

"Hey Red, what _are_ you?" asked Irvine, unable to curb his curiosity any longer. "I mean you've got that whole cat dignity thing going on, but the howling and the snout…I mean, which is it?"

"I am Red," he replied.

Irvine waited for a further response, and then when one was obviously not forthcoming he shrugged and let the subject lie.

A window opened in front of the building, and a head poked out of it. "Whattayou want?"

"I would speak to…'the Boss,'" said Red, obviously suffering greatly the indignity of calling this person by this name.

The face retreated within the window, and a few minutes the door to the building opened, allowing for a tall man, dressed in a suit with a shock of red hair to walk evenly outside.

"That's the Boss?" asked Squall.

"He'd like to think so, but no," muttered Red.

"I heard that, Red," said the man.

"I asked to speak to the Boss, not one of his lackeys," said Red.

"News doesn't travel very well to you, does it? The Boss is gone, he's history."

"So why are you still here?"

The man shrugged and sniffed in quick succession. "I've got a good setup here, and everyone knows to keep away, unless they've got something of worth to me." He leaned down towards Red. "Do you have something of worth for me, Red? Because I'm a very busy man."

"I highly doubt that," said Red.

"Then why are you bothering me?" said the man, turning away from Red in mild irritation.

"Because I know the Boss is gone, and I also know he has a replacement. And something I'm interested in happened at about the same time they traded places. Something tells me that it isn't an unlikely coincidence."

The man eyed Red, thinking over what had just been said. Then he turned to Squall.

"And who's this?"

"Some people I've recently met and who I'm assisting in a related matter. They're…not local."

"Apparently," said the man who was regarding Quistis unabashedly. "Finally, I've been staring at ladies in dirty rags for so long I'd almost forgotten what a real woman looks like."

Quistis regarded him coldly and he just shrugged. He returned to Red, Irvine obviously unworthy of his attention. "What makes you think I've got anything to do with what you're saying?"

"You go where the money is, Reno," said Red. "And there are hardly two pennies to rub together in all of Midgar."

"Tell me about it," said Reno, suddenly dejected. "I should've taken that ship to Wutai. I mean, look at this place," he said, indicating the building he had just walked out of. "Looks big, doesn't it? There's three rooms still standing, and there's twenty guys in there. I don't like close personal contact, Red. Not with big, sweaty men."

"I wondered why you'd deigned to come out and speak to me," retorted Red, although something in his voice betrayed that he didn't entirely mean what he was saying. There was some kind of mutual respect between these two, although it was buried far beneath the surface and they undoubtedly would never admit it to each other.

"I've got to find some way to occupy my time," said Reno.

"You can take us to see the Boss then. That should keep you entertained for a while."

"There's a difference between entertainment and desperation," countered Reno, but then he pursed his lips in thought. "What are you offering?"

"Money," interjected Squall, who received a strange look from Reno.

"Took the words out of my mouth," said Red. "Although why you're still a slave to money when the economy is non-existent is beyond me…"

"Because it's still worth something in certain circles. People don't know how to equate value other than applying a number of gil to an item or services. So, it's still useful to have. However, I'll need something else for this one."

Red eyed him. "You don't know where he is, do you?"

Reno shifted from one foot to another. "Well…not in so many words, no. In fact, he's being quite secretive. Nobody's seen what he looks like."

"You don't know who he is?" asked Red, slightly incredulous. "I didn't think even you could stoop to such levels of incompetence as to not know who you were working for."

"Hey, it's generally considered to be a bad idea to insult someone, especially if he's as badass as I am, and especially if you want something from him."

"Unless…you're not working for the Boss anymore?"

"God dammit Red, I woke up this morning in a pretty good mood. I'm going to get drunk, fall asleep and hopefully have such a crippling hangover I can forget we ever had this conversation."

He turned and started to march back towards the building.

"Wait," called Squall. Reno kept on walking. "We'll pay you!"

That stopped him in his tracks. His fists clenched and unclenched as he tried to resist Squall's offer, and then after a moment he carried on walking.

"Have you ever heard of the Garden?" shouted Quistis. Reno turned on his heel and marched back to the small group of people.

"What the hell has a garden got to do with anything? You're lucky you're so beautiful, lady, or I might be losing my patience with you right now."

"It's an elite military organisation, run from the private sector. Engages in any kind of war exercise you can imagine, and -"

Reno, obviously bored, turned back to the building and walked away. Quistis rushed what she was going to say.

"It pays a flat salary and bonuses for combat assignments."

"Are you going anywhere with this?" called Reno.

"You wanted something more than money? Fine. You can be a SeeD."

Reno threw her a look of disgust mixed with anger. "What the hell are you talking about, woman?"

"A SeeD. A member of the Garden."

"Well, that makes sense."

"I'm guessing you're some kind of ex-military? This can't be any kind of life for you. I'm willing to bet you travelled all around the world, out on special assignments? I can tell by the way you walk. Imagine a floating academy, the sole purpose of which is to train in the arts of combat and conflict." Reno had become subdued listening to her. "You can be a part of all that," she finished. "Just take us to see the Boss."

Reno moved close to her, and placed a hand on either of her arms. "I've been close to many women," he said finally, his eyes softening, "But you're the first one to ever understand me."

There was a moment of stunned silence until the façade dropped and he fixed Quistis with a sardonic smile. "Fine, you got yourself a deal. I hope this Garden lives up to what you say, or I'll be pissed. I can't take you to the Boss, but I've got a good idea where he is, so I'll take you along. If only for the conversation," he added.

* * *

Author's Note:

Yes. This was supposed to be up last Wednesday. You're probably expecting an apology for my lateness. You're not getting it. Why? Because it was beyond my power to post this on time. My ISP went down. For an entire _week_. Tech support went on vacation, and the ISP just happened to go down after they left. Useless. Anyway, next chapter will be up in two days, unless something else goes drastically wrong.


	13. Shinra

Amarant flexed his knuckles as he waited in the shadows. He wasn't the most stealthy man in the world – being seven foot six at your full height and having blue tinged skin tended to make you stand out – but he got by. He could sneak down alleyways and jump those that knew the ways of the darkness well, and he knew enough about hunting to be able to sneak up on a deer and pat its flank before it noticed him. But he wasn't anywhere near as good about it as Shadow was. And that rankled at him. That black-clad ninja's _mere existence_ annoyed Amarant to no end.

He'd been sure there was no one like him in the entire world, no one anywhere near his level. Zidane had proven that wrong. The young thief had out-witted and outfought him. But in the end, Amarant had been willing to slip. Zidane was a hero, and according to the storybooks, heroes always won. So Amarant had tried the hero thing. And he'd been kind of good at it. But at the end of the day, Zidane had still saved the day, had still been the better man. And then he'd disappeared.

No one knew what had happened to him. Maybe he was swallowed up by the Iifa Tree. Maybe Kuja had finally done him in. Amarant didn't know, and didn't care. With Zidane gone, now he was the best.

And then Kain and his little company had strolled along. The Dragoon looked to be a good man in a fight. Maybe Amarant's equal. Maybe better. The monk thought of testing that one day. He'd certainly given thought to pounding Cyan's and Fujin's heads in a few times, and he was fairly certain he could take them both. At the same time. While blindfolded.

But Shadow… Shadow had been a different matter. The man radiated a darkness, tempered only by… something. A conscience, maybe, but that was doubtful. Amarant knew his own kind when he saw them. And if Shadow was anything, he was Amarant's own kind. But different. Like he was in a league of his own. Like he was so self-assured about his talent, he didn't feel the need to prove it to others. It was just something that he had, and flaunted.

And that, more than anything, pissed Amarant off.

At least Zidane had been a hero. He'd had that excuse. Power was just something he used to vanquish evil and other pansy hero bullshit. But Shadow? Shadow was in the game, Amarant's game. And in that game, you had to show others you were good. Mercenaries and assassins who didn't prove themselves to their clientele didn't get hired. And mercenaries and assassins who didn't get hired didn't get to eat.

He thought he was over the proving that he was the best was over. He thought looking for fights was stupid. And maybe it was. But as soon as Amarant had seen the way Shadow moved, the way he held his weapons, Amarant just had to know who the best was.

And now, hiding in the shadows as he was, prepared to strike, he was going to prove who the best of them all was in one single blow.

His target was approaching. He knew that. He could _feel_ the man moving towards him, even if he couldn't hear or see him. The way Amarant's neck hairs stood on end, the way every instinct told him to run in terror and never look back, the way his muscles nearly wouldn't obey him told him that his opponent was coming near. But all this the monk ignored. He was the best, and tonight everyone would know that.

Crouched down and in the darkness of night, hidden behind a large rock, he tensed. This was it. The moment to move. He readied his two claw-like weapons, Rune and Avenger. Rune appeared mostly defensive, almost a shield-like weapon that covered most of his left fist, a large gem in the middle and a spike at the tip to gut opponents with when he punched, but it was Avenger that was in reality the protective weapon. Three blades came from the end of it, making it appear a purely offensive weapon. But if one were to catch a blade between the claws, and twist with just the right amount of force, one's opponent would have a broken and useless weapon. A move Amarant intended to use.

He knew this was the fight he'd been born for. The moment he'd heard the name, the moment he'd seen the man move. And on the other side of the rock, Amarant knew he was approaching.

It was the time to strike.

Moving around the rock, Amarant prepared a lunge with both fists, and was forced to turn both strikes immediately into parries as the man he knew had to be Sephiroth launched an attack of his own. The man's sword allowed him more reach than even Amarant's long arms allowed, and the monk parried the first precise slash with Rune, and caught the sword with Avenger just perfectly and twisted.

A smile broke across Amarant's face as he was rewarded with the sound of shattering steel. He'd been lucky to even block both attacks. They'd been so quick he had barely seen them, almost not registering at all in his mind's eye. But he'd done it. And now, he could prove he was the best. His eyes shifted to take in the sight of his opponent's broken weapon. The smile slipped off just as quickly as it had had come as he realized it was his own weapon that had broken.

Sephiroth was already turning away from Amarant, heading into the mountains to the east, and sheathing his weapon as if the confrontation were already over. The red-haired monk started forward, furious that the silver-haired warrior seemed to be neglecting the danger of the confrontation completely.

Taking a step forward, Amarant stumbled, falling to the ground, clutching his chest as a line of agony creased it. He looked down, at his hands that weren't covered in blood, as he knew they should have been. A gash covered his chest, skin torn in a perfectly straight line across the middle. He stood on his knees, looking in horror at the wound, and looked back at Sephiroth as the man strode away.

"I'm not done with you!" Amarant said, trying to stand up, "I'm the Flaming Amarant! Get back here!"

He fell again, and as he did, he heard a condescendingly wicked laugh on the wind, and for the first time in many years, Amarant Coral felt fear close in over him.

Chapter Thirteen

Shinra

Rufus Shinra, former President of the Shinra Corporation, sat patiently, legs crossed, a glass of brandy in his hand. He swished the alcohol in its cup, not really paying attention to it, and having no desire to drink from it. Inside the liquid were at least three different types of poisons, all strong enough to drop a lion.

He knew that because his agents had reported that his enemy had in fact purchased a small quantity of three different poisons, ones that would all dissolve in alcohol, and leave neither taste, odor nor discoloration of the liquid they were put into. Still he held onto the drink, as if about to always drink from it, just to see his opponent squirm in his chair.

Dio Masamichi, Manager and owner of Gold Saucer, as well as its reining Battle Square Champion, sat impatiently at his desk, staring expectantly at the glass in Rufus' hand, as if trying to make the foul concoction to kill the President just by being in his hand. The man was better suited to the Battle Arena, and not in corporate politics. He would have been a poor opponent for Rufus in the past, but not so this day. As it was, Dio had the upper hand. He had money, power, a base of his own, and six armed guards in the room, as well as twelve more out in the hallway. All Rufus had was a blond woman in a blue suit by his side who seemed more likely to carry a fashion magazine in her hand and a makeup bag rather than a 9 mm pistol.

Dio was still at a slight disadvantage, however. The man firmly believed that Rufus had the wealth of nations behind him, as well as contacts across the world to support him. Midgar may be no more, Shinra Tower may be currently ruled by another, and Junon's doors may be closed to Rufus, but everyone knew that President Shinra was the most powerful man on the Planet.

It was a good thing for such a common fact, considering it was wrong.

Things had changed greatly since Meteor. Rufus had barely survived Diamond Weapon's attack on Shinra Tower, managing only to cast a Shield spell at the last moment as blinding fire consumed his surroundings. Still he'd been injured, bones fractured and body broken from his precious castle falling down around him. Any other man would have died. But not Rufus Shinra.

Rufus, bent on revenge for all those that had slighted him, had crawled through the debris, stumbled down the entire length of Shinra Tower until he'd encountered the fleeing Turks. That was, two out of three of them. Reno had been nowhere to be seen, but still there had been Rude and Elena. The two, surprisingly loyal to their employer, had taken him to a hospital in the slums, where he was subjected to the roughest and most heavy-handed doctors that a Turk's pay could buy. Rufus made note to give the Turks a raise upon reclamation of his company.

But for now, such an option was impossible. The simple fact was… Rufus Shinra was broke.

_Broke,_ Rufus mused, a smile playing on his lips, this earning him an odd look from Dio. Considering their negotiations and how they were faring, Rufus in theory had nothing to smile about. Let the fool think of that how he would. Dio opened his mouth to speak, and began droning on about company funds and stocks and how they were all tied up, talking as if he had an ounce of knowledge of what he was saying. All the lines had the sound of rehearsal to them. More than likely, Dio's lawyers had coached on him what to say.

Still Rufus continued his line of thought, ignoring Dio completely. _Broke. Broke. Funny how being poor is dubbed 'broke,' as if something is indeed broken and needs to be fixed. _

He played the thought over, grinning at the absurdity of it, knowing that lack of money was but a small obstacle. Power was the end, money was only but one of many means.

Rufus tuned back in, catching Dio's summary. A trick he'd learned long ago from too many board meetings. A change in tone always signified a finale, and Rufus always picked up on it and instinctively paid attention. "… and as you can see, I couldn't hope to accommodate your request for a loan. Although why you need one—"

"Is besides the point," Rufus said. "Mister Masamichi—"

"Dio," the man interrupted.

"Mister Masamichi. Let me tell you a story. Once upon a time in Wutai, there was a great Emperor. But he was more than an Emperor. He was a warrior beyond compare. Some said no one could defeat him. Well, this Emperor… he had everything he could possibly want. A kingdom greater than anyone else's. Wealth beyond imagination. A wife more beautiful than anyone else's. A young daughter that showed the potential to be one of the greatest warriors to ever be born of Wutai. But for some reason, it wasn't enough for him. He felt the need to expand, to challenge his neighbors. One of these neighbors wasn't a nation at all, but a power company. And as it turned out, the company was the only true threat to the Emperor's quest for glory. Because while the leader of this company did not have a daughter as greatly skilled in martial arts, while he didn't have a wife nearly as beautiful, and while he didn't even really have a kingdom to speak of… he had more money. And because of this, he had more power. And do you know how this tale ends, Mister Masamichi?"

Dio nodded. "Lord Godo, the 'Emperor', was defeated by General Sephiroth in battle, and surrendered to Shinra."

Rufus, smiling even more broadly, shook his head. "No. That's not what happened at all. You see, Lord Godo was the best warrior of all time in his prime. Maybe General Sephiroth defeated him because he was the better man. Or maybe it was because Lord Godo felt he had lost everything. You see, the part of the story that most don't know, is that earlier that day, Godo had received word from Wutai. Apparently, during the night, assassins had crept into the capital and slain his wife. Some say that because of this, Godo lost his spirit, his will to fight, and was never the same man again."

"Is there a point to this story?" Dio growled.

"With all things," Rufus said. "there is a point. Tell me, Mister Masamichi… How is your wife?"

The large man stood up, quickly enough that his chair clattered to the ground. "Are you threatening me and my wife?"

"Of course not. I'm merely telling a story. Which reminds me, have you met my man-at-arms, Rude?" He gestured to the right of him, the place the bald Turk usually occupied. Today, he was absent, but still Rufus pretended as if the man were there. "Despite his size, Rude is a master of espionage and infiltration. He can get past any number of guards, and to his target with a minimum of effort. And he has a very impressive war record. Did you know that during the Midgar/Wutai war, that it was _he_ who assassinated Lord Godo's wife?"

Dio's fist slammed on his desk, understanding the point, and Rude's absence. "What do you want? Your precious loan? What makes you think you have the right to threaten my wife?"

"What makes you think you have the right to try to poison me?" Rufus retorted calmly. The amusement on his face was gone, replaced by a cold hardness. "Make no mistake, Mister Masamichi. I do not threaten. I act. Rude is currently listening in to our conversation, and should I give the word, or should anything sound amiss, or should I walk from this room without receiving what I desire, your wife will die."

"You're bluffing," Dio said.

"Am I? I trust you'll also note Reno's absence. I'll have you know that he is attending to your two sons," Rufus lied. Reno's whereabouts were still unknown. But Dio didn't have to know about that.

"What do you want?"

"Not your money," Rufus said, his smile returning. But there was a coldness to it, an iciness to his eyes that hadn't been there before. "No. You can keep that. Take your money, and retire. Take your family with you. But be elsewhere, and give me Gold Saucer."

"You want my legacy? The legacy my children would inherit? You want my family's _future_?"

"Yes. I want Gold Saucer. In exchange for your family, I ask for your legacy. But I am not a cruel man. So, as I've prepared here…" Elena, on cue, took a piece of paper from the briefcase that had sat beside his chair and placed it on Dio's desk, "… a written contract. I will have undisputed control of Gold Saucer, the land, the park, the employees, the rides… everything… for a period of five years. Once that period of five years finishes, control of Gold Saucer will revert back once more to you and your family, and I will no longer incur upon your… 'legacy.'"

Dio's eyes narrowed, and he stared at the piece of paper on his desk as if it were a live snake. Snatching it angrily, he pulled a pen from his desk drawer and hurriedly signed it without even reading it. When he was done, he spat on the ground, and said, "Get the hell out of my sight."

Rufus stood up slowly, making every action pronounced and deliberate. He marched to Dio's desk, picked up the bottle of brandy, and calmly poured his own glass back into it. And then he smirked.

After the two left the room, Elena asked, "Okay, we have Gold Saucer. Now what?"

"Now… we retake Midgar."


	14. The Mystery of the Monkey

Reno stooped, picked up a piece of wooden debris about as long as his forearm, leaned back and launched the stick as far as he could, then whirled and stared at Red. He received a disdainful glance as payment for his actions, and they stood there staring at each other for a full minute before Reno turned away, muttering "Spoilsport…"

Squall hung back with Red while the other three walked on, Reno leading the way.

"Who _is_ this guy?" asked Squall.

"He's Reno. He used to work for Shinra, as a member of the Turks, an elite special operations group which did all of the companies dirty work – kidnapping, assassination…all of the things Shinra could never do through official channels."

Squall was about to comment on that, but then he remembered that the assassination of the Sorceress was ordered through more official channels than Reno probably used, and decided it wasn't worth saying anything. Instead, he said, "So how can he help us?"

"He used to work for the man who essentially ran Midgar, enforcing what was left of the law…although that makes him sound like a policeman, and that certainly isn't true, if only for the fact that what's left of society would have destroyed itself if guided by Reno's morals. He negotiated a few conflicts between the citizens here, and if I hadn't done the job for him I fully believe those citizens would no longer be with us today."

"He has a short temper?" asked Squall.

"Not so much…he can resist anger quite well, considering his line of work. It's when he gets bored that he's most likely to do something stupid."

Squall looked on as Reno flirted unashamedly with Quistis, who obviously wasn't interested. "He seems to be entertaining himself," observed Squall.

"Remember, he was a part of Shinra for most of his adult life, and he's used to doing whatever he wants, within reason. I find him to be a very strange person, although I'm sure he thinks the same thing about me," added Red.

"So where are we going?" asked Squall.

"I imagine to one of the Boss's old establishments, I imagine, and see if the new one has taken up residence."

"Good idea," said Squall approvingly.

Irvine was walking along the dirt road giving Reno the odd glare, but only because he was jealous of his attention of Quistis. So what happened next was an incredible contrast to the complete normality of what Irvine was doing right until it happened.

One moment the air above Irvine's head was empty, the next it was occupied by a kid. The kid fell the two feet from where he had appeared down onto Irvine, who, completely unsuspecting, collapsed under the weight of the new arrival, and so they fell into a tangle of limbs on the ground as Irvine tried to fight him off and the kid retaliated.

Squall leaped forward and dragged the new arrival off Irvine's back, and the sniper jumped up, patting the dust off himself while looking ready to attack the kid.

The kid fought furiously to escape Squall's grasp, and what made him let go was the feeling of something warm and furry on his hand. He released his grip on the kid by reflex, to discover that he actually had a tail – a long, furry, monkey tail, despite otherwise looking quite human. It uncoiled from Squall's arm as he ran away, straight into the path of Red. He froze as their faces stopped a foot apart from each other, his eyes widening, and the tail straightening until it stood in a perfect line.

"Nice kitty," he said, backing off slowly, raising his hands into the air. "Good kitty."

Red emitted a low growl from the back of his throat. "One, I'm not a cat. Two, you shouldn't make continued eye contact with an animal, that's a challenge. Three, put your hands down – making yourself bigger is also a challenge."

The stranger's eyes widened further with each word Red said, then he snapped to attention, patted his now dusty clothes down, and offered his hand to Red.

"I'm Zidane! Pleased to meet you!"

Squall could study the stranger more closely now that he was still. His first estimate of a kid was accurate, but he was older than he first appeared, probably by a couple of years. What was most strange about him was the tail swishing from side to side behind him.

Red studied Zidane's hand closely. Once it became apparent his handshake wouldn't be accepted, Zidane didn't withdraw it, he pin wheeled on his heel to face Squall. Squall exchanged a glance with the others, who were all observing with mute, morbid curiosity. Quistis finally gave Squall a little nod, and he shook the kid's hand. Zidane started to shake it furiously, and then moments later he moved to Irvine.

"Sorry about that. No hard feelings?" Again the hand was extended, accepted and shaken.

When it was offered to Reno, however, was when the stunned silence was broken.

"You've got to be kidding me," he said as he looked at the offered hand with barely disguised conceit.

Then Zidane turned to Quistis, who had been staring at his tail in fascination. She snapped her gaze away, but she had been discovered by Zidane, who just smiled winningly.

"Hey there," he said, and Squall rolled his eyes.

"Not another one," he muttered to Red.

The tail lifted into the air to hover perilously close to entering Quistis' zone of comfortable personal space, but hovered just outside it.

"It doesn't bite. And neither do I," he added.

Reno rolled his eyes and took Zidane by the shoulders. "C'mon, kid. Get a grip." He walked him away from Quistis to stand in the centre of the assembled group.

Thus began the informal interrogation.

"Where are you from?" started Reno.

"Well, it's a long story. I was…I tried to save Kuja, but…well, it was too late to get him out…"

"Out of where?"

"That's the long story. It doesn't really matter now, but the point was that it looked like me and Kuja were gonna die. We were trapped someplace we couldn't get out of…and just when it looked like it was all over…I saw something. Like…a flicker in the corner of my eye. I looked at it…and if you concentrate, then you can make out the edges…see it for what it really is. Like that one over there," he said, pointing at a pile of junk about ten metres away.

They all immediately stared at the pile of metal, but nothing strange hit them about it.

"There's nothing there," said Red.

"No, look," said Zidane, who strolled over to the pile, climbed onto the roof of a burned out car, and extended his hand. "Watch!" he called.

He lowered his hand carefully down, and there were a few raised eyebrows when his arm disappeared up to the elbow.

"Nice trick," said Irvine.

"It's no trick," said Zidane as he walked back to join them. "As far as I can tell, they're tears in…well, believe it or not…they're gateways to other universes." He watched them for a shocked reaction, but was only met with stony stares.

"You already knew that, huh," he said after a moment.

"I didn't…but I don't especially care," supplied Reno.

"Oh," said Zidane, looking dejected. "Well, okay. But anyway, I stepped through into this portal and I was in a total other world…I guess Kuja must have died because he wasn't behind me after we went through the portal. I started to learn about that other world, but I started noticing portals everywhere I went, but they were all only as big as that one, or smaller, so I searched for bigger ones. I found one in the end, and basically I've been doing that for…well, I don't know how long for, but it's been a while."

"You're trying to get back to your own world, right?" asked Quistis, and Zidane nodded.

Reno snorted. "Sounds like a bad TV show I watched once," he commented dryly. "Look, I hate to break this up…actually no, I don't hate to break this up, but time is ticking away and we haven't got all century."

"He's right," admitted Squall, before walking on.

"Wait, hang on, you're just going to leave me here?" pleaded Zidane. "But I don't know anything about this world…and I'm all alone…" His suddenly big, soulful eyes met Quistis' and his bottom lip gave an ever so slight tremble.

Reno whapped him over the back of the head. "Behave yourself, monkey boy. That's no way to take advantage of a lady."

Squall noted that Reno didn't subconsciously have a problem with taking advantage of women, just the manner of doing so.

Quistis looked to Squall, and then he realised what she was thinking.

"Oh, no. No." Her eyebrows creased slightly, almost begging him. Squall was adamant.

"No," he said firmly. "Not under any circumstances."

* * *

"…So we're flying towards where Kuja's got his base, right? And out of nowhere come these silver dragons; they're the biggest things you've _ever_ seen! They're coming right at the airship and then BOOM! The Lindblum Fleet sails right on through the Mist and knocks them back, but they're not enough, and it looks like we're…"

Squall grit his teeth and tried to ignore Zidane's gushing to Quistis, complete with jumping around, sound effects and wild gesticulations while he, Irvine and Reno strode ahead of them, adamantly ignoring the new arrival. "Are we there yet?" he asked to Reno, who was equally nonplussed. He didn't answer.

Irvine roused himself from being surly and glanced at the Turk. "Reno?"

Reno glanced back at the animated youngster. "Dammit, why'd you have to make him fall out the air and onto your head?" he asked Irvine.

"You're jealous?" returned Irvine, shocked.

"…Maybe a little envious," admitted Reno. "There's no way I could get away with being that…" He glanced back again, as if in search of the right word to describe him. "…_Adorable_," he said in disgust.

"I wouldn't say he's…" said Irvine, checked behind him, and then didn't finish the sentence, knowing he was wrong.

Squall rolled his eyes. It looked like Red was the only sane one left, although he was back listening to Zidane so surely his mental wellbeing was also called into question.

"So, uh…what about me?" asked Irvine, standing up straighter.

"What about you?" asked Reno.

"C'mon, surely you can see my 'talents,'" he said. Reno gave him a blank stare. "Y'know, I mean if you're a bit jealous of _him_ then surely…" He trailed off. Reno stared still. "…Of me, too," finished Irvine.

Reno kept on staring for a full ten seconds. "Yeah. Sure," he said.

"...And we see Gaia, right? But 5000 years in the past, and it's not a planet, it's a massive fireball! And then he starts going on about collective memory or something, but that's pretty boring and I'm sure you don't…" continued Zidane in his seemingly endless chatter. Quistis seemed quite content to hear him ramble on, and this of course made Zidane equally happy to carry on.

"Monkey boy!" said Reno suddenly, clapping his hands together and slowing down slightly to keep pace with Zidane. "So, how'd you find a portal that leads directly down?"

"My name is Zidane," he said haughtily, "And it was just there. I didn't know anyone was going to be on the other side."

"Mighty coincidence you dropping in on us like that," said Reno, and Quistis rolled her eyes at the pun. "What if it was hanging off the side of a cliff? You'd have fallen to your untimely death!"

"Erm," said Zidane, confused by the sudden attention. "Yeah, I suppose I would have."

"Which would have been a shame. For you."

"…Yeah."

There was an awkward silence for a few moments, and then Reno smiled and rejoined Squall and Irvine at the front of the group. Zidane and Quistis exchanged a puzzled glance.

Irvine leaned over to Reno. "Like, what the hell was all that about?"

"If you can't be a part of a conversation," answered Reno, "Then you kill it."

Irvine nodded in understanding, and then Squall scrutinised him closely.

"Don't be teaching him any bad habits," said Squall to Reno, who just shrugged.

"Better he learn it from me."

Squall was confused. "Better than what?"

Reno was equally perplexed by Squall's question. "Than not learning it at all."

The two men stared at each other for a moment, while Irvine stood between them like a child with disagreeing parents. Squall and Reno both reached the silent conclusion that pursuing the topic would be pointless, and so they all walked on in silence.


	15. Wounded

Rufus stood watching the myriad men and women practicing in the gymnasium, a hint of amusement touching his features. From the booth he was in, they looked the size of robotic toys, playing children's games for the amusement of betters. And in truth, that's what they were doing. Practicing their fighting skills in some desperate bid to prove themselves, or win the prize of the upcoming tournament, a Magic Materia recently discovered in a cave in Gold Saucer's desert.

Of course, everyone below served a different purpose entirely in Rufus' plans. Funny how no one read the small print on the insurance claim they had signed before entering the tournament.

Rude cracked his knuckles loudly, and Rufus didn't need to hear the unspoken question to know it for what it was. The large, bald man wanted to participate in the tournament. The Turk acted as if he had something to prove. Rufus already knew Rude was one of the best, and frequently made use of that.

Below, Elena was organizing the fighters, preparing them for the tournament and taking names. They were still four fighters short of the expected projections, but very few passed the qualifying tests. If worse came to worst, the event would have to go ahead as planned.

Rufus had never imagined it would be this easy. To gain control of Gold Saucer, to begin building an army of the best fighters… soon, Rufus would have Midgar back from that fool who had usurped it from him, the man who so unimaginatively called himself 'Boss.'

Frowning, Rufus pointed out one man in the crowd, a fellow with blond-white hair, who wore clothes of a cut he didn't recognize. "Who is that?"

The man moved with every step carefully pronounced, but with an effort to appear casual. Every single one of the fighters present appeared as if they knew how to handle themselves, but this particular man looked as if he belonged in a different league entirely. Rufus was a good judge of character, and he'd easily put this stranger into a class equal to those of Avalanche.

Rude stepped up beside Rufus and looked at the man, and said, "Cole. I don't know his first name. He looks like he'll be strong."

"Yes," Rufus said. "Strong, indeed. I want you in the tournament, Rude. I'll set it up so that you fight this man in the second round. Test him. Be gentle, but make sure you win. No permanent damage on him. He may be useful."

The Turk nodded once, then stepped away, resuming his former position of the ever-vigilant bodyguard. Rufus paid him no mind. The man below… Cole… held all of the President's attention. Oh yes. This Cole would make a perfect addition to his army indeed. He made sure that Elena pushed the 'insurance claim' on him, even at the expense of making it free. Rufus didn't need the money that badly anymore. What he needed was for all the truly good fighters to sign the contract that made them employees of Shinra.

Chapter Fifteen

Wounded

"You're sure this is where Amarant went?" Kain asked again, for probably the tenth time.

"YES," Fujin barked back.

Kain shook his head in disgust and followed the albino girl. He still wasn't sure what to make of her, and he wasn't about to go following her blindly through a mountain pass on just her word. After all, she did have a grudge against Amarant, and she could purposely be luring the party away from the man. However, whenever the Dragoon made as if to turn away, Fujin would round on him and say in her infuriating voice, "POSSE."

He wasn't sure what it meant, but the look in her eye… it was one of hope mixed with anger that he dare go against it, or even question it. And every time he thought of backing away regardless, Shadow was instantly there, giving him a death glare. Kain wasn't sure what that was about, but at those points, he would remind himself that he had no other leads about Amarant's whereabouts. His lance couldn't seem to get a fix on the monk anymore. On anyone who had joined him, for that matter. Apparently, once he'd been in a teleportation with someone, the knowledge of that person disappeared entirely from the weapon.

To make matters worse, the one who'd named himself as Vincent Valentine, the man who had been fighting Sephiroth before they'd blindly leapt in, was following them. There was nothing they could do about it short of fighting him again, and he seemed to present no harm, but his presence unnerved Kain. Just as much as Shadow's did at times.

And so now, all Kain had to go on was a one-eyed woman who probably had no depth perception to speak of as a guide. Worse, she'd only seen him from the corner of her eye. When Kain muttered his complaints under his breath, Cyan appeared to hear them, and added, "Worse, Sir Kain. She is an albino, and their kind hast never been known to see well in either light or dark. It couldst be that she sees only far, or perhaps only very close. She may be more sensitive to light, or she could suffer from cros—"

"RAGE!"

The two stopped to see Fujin, both fists clenched at her sides, staring angrily at the both of them, fury evident on her face. Cyan stopped, a frown coming over his face, but Kain immediately felt embarrassed. They'd been talking about her supposed blindness inside of hearing range. Lovely.

"NOT DEAF," she growled, and then turned away, stalking into the darkness.

Kain heard a sound, and whipped his head to the source, looking directly at Shadow. He wasn't sure, but it had _almost_ sounded like the man had given a short, carefully restrained chuckle. But that _couldn't_ be.

Following after her again, he tried to push everything from his mind. He had to keep focused if they were going to find Amarant and stop him from getting into whatever trouble he was getting into. They rounded a rocky bend, and even as they did, Kain's ears pricked up, and in the distance he could hear shouting.

"Not… done! Fuckin'… pussy! I'll kill you! _Come back here_!" The last sentence was filled with such wild desperation, such fear and anger mixed all into one tone, that despite the voice, Kain still doubted that the words had come from Amarant. The man normally seemed so aloof, so in control. Even in the short time that the Dragoon had known him, he hadn't expected such an emotional outburst from him.

Charging ahead, he moved, pumping his legs forward until he spotted the large monk. The man was stumbling forward, holding his gut with both arms. Instantly Kain was at his side, restraining the man from going any further. It was clear that Amarant had been somehow wounded – more than likely confronting Sephiroth – and the Dragoon wasn't about to let the monk get himself killed after all the trouble it took to recruit him.

Amarant looked blankly at Kain, as if his eyes wouldn't focus. Red locks of hair dangled in front of his face, obscuring his eyes, but Kain could still see them. They were filled with uncertainty, and his face was drenched with swear. Amarant let in a deep breath and said, "I think I fucked up."

The large man began to fall forward, but Kain caught him, steadying his weight. Even so, the Dragoon had trouble keeping him straight until Cyan trotted up, and helped set the man down gently.

"What hast injured the knave so?" Cyan asked, looking at the wound.

Kain was already unrolling bandages from a belt pouch, prepared to staunch the bleeding, when he stopped, staring at the injury. A large gash had been neatly sliced through his midsection, and while the Dragoon could see in startling detail the depth of the wound and even what was exposed by it, but for all that, it wasn't bleeding at all.

"I… I don't know," Kain confessed.

"It's the wound from the blade of Masamune," came Vincent's voice as the red-caped man approached. "I've seen its like many times. It's from Sephiroth's sword. Your friend must have encountered him."

"Tried to jump him, more than likely," Shadow hissed.

"Doesn't matter how he got it," Kain said. "We need to fix this right now. I wish Rosa were here. Does anyone know any White magic?"

Shadow shook his head, and Cyan added, "Magic left our world when the Goddess statues were destroyed. Verily, where once both myself and Sir Shadow knew the greatest of White and Black magics, now we are just men."

Kain shuddered at the thought of Shadow capable of feats of magic, and looked to Vincent, who also shook his head, but was also looking at Shadow and Cyan oddly. 'Our world', Cyan had said. Vincent must have caught that remark. "I have no Materia on me. It was all… stolen… some time ago by an acquaintance."

The Dragoon had no idea what Materia was, but he took it in stride, and looked to Fujin. The girl appeared even angrier than she was before, staring down at Amarant. Abruptly, she moved towards him, and kicked him hard in the leg. "IDIOT."

She looked about to kick him again when Shadow moved in beside her and pulled her away, a chiding tone in his voice. "You can kick him when he's better. Now, do you know any White magic?"

She frowned at him, then stared at Amarant, who was rapidly falling unconscious. She held up both hands, and a look of concentration came over her face. "CURAGA."

A blue light began to surround Fujin, and then disappeared, reappearing over Amarant as waves of magic covered him, soothing away his wounds. When it was finished, Kain inspected the main injury closely and swore. It was mostly unchanged.

"Conventional magic won't word on injuries inflicted by Masamune," Vincent informed. "Where normal weapons draw blood and wound the body, Masamune tears at the spirit, and leaves magical damage behind on the injured. Once wounded so, only the most powerful of White magics can heal it."

"Wonderful," came Shadow's comment, and Kain felt his head sink a little bit.

"My acquaintance that I mentioned before," Vincent said. "She might have Materia capable of it. But the trouble would be in finding her. She could be as far as Wutai. Or… she could be…"

The man seemed to trail off, as if thinking of something. Abruptly, a hand went into his cloak, and Kain felt the grip on his spear tighten. Vincent had been given back his weapon, but he still didn't know how far to trust this strange man. Producing a smooth black box of some sort, Vincent pressed a button and it seemed to… open. The man pressed what seemed to be buttons on the inside, each one making a noise as he did. What manner of strange device was this?

Vincent held it to his face, and then began speaking into it. "Cid? Yes, it's me again. The other day you spoke of… no, Cid, this is urgent. … If you yell at me again, I will hang up. Yes. Now, the other day. There was something you said. No, other than that. Something you were afraid to miss out on. A tournament? Now, do you know what the prize is? Good, then odds are, she will be there. Thank you, old friend. I'll let you yell at me in person soon enough."

"What was that?" Kain asked once Vincent had put away the box.

"PHONE," Fujin said. "BUT SMALL."

A phone? What in the world was a 'phone'? Kain shook his head. He'd have to try to slip it into the conversation later and find out from Vincent.

The red-caped man said, "A cure awaits your friend in Gold Saucer. Look for Yuffie. She'll have a Full Cure Materia. You'll more than likely need to steal it from her. Now, I have to follow Sephiroth and hopefully kill him before he brings about any harm."

"Where is this… 'Gold Saucer'?" Cyan asked.

"It's…" Vincent started, then narrowed his eyes. "You didn't know Sephiroth by sight. You don't know where Gold Saucer is. Your clothes are strange. You don't even know what a PHS is. Just who are you?"

The Dragoon shook his head. He was beginning to get tired of this. "We don't have time for a full explanation. We're from different worlds. I was entrusted by a Lunarian named Golbez to search out allies to track down Sephiroth. We travel through portals, hunting him down. So far, as you can see, our luck hasn't been stellar. Either you believe us or you don't. The important thing is, we're after Sephiroth just like you seem to be, and our friend is wounded. He's dying. We need to get this… Full Cure Materia you spoke of. Can you help us?"

Vincent, a doubtful expression on his face, nodded and said, "I will take you to Gold Saucer."


	16. Men's Night Out

Chapter Sixteen

Men's Night Out

"You've got to be kidding me," said Squall. The open plan bar sprawled out in front of him, music blaring from several speakers set around the club, neon lights flashed, a fine mist of dry ice hung in the air and the place was packed full of people, all dancing and drinking.

"Nope," said Reno, pushing past Squall, "You wanted to see the new Boss, this is where I think he is."

Luckily they stood outside the bar and were looking in through the body length windows so Squall actually stood a chance of hearing what Reno was saying, although the other man was rapidly making his way through the queue to talk to one of three hulking bouncers. Squall was struck by the difference between the rest of the slums and this building – it must be running on some sort of generator, and the people inside were all dressed at least semi-respectably. He guessed that despite what Red had told him, that Shinra had been defeated, that there still existed a huge gap between people with power and money and the people living in the slums in Midgar.

Reno had already gone inside, so Squall gathered everyone together and went to follow him, but the bouncer laid a massive hand on his shoulder, restraining him. Squall hoped to not have to fight, and sure enough Reno reappeared, saying what must be something like "They're with me" to the bouncers, who then let them in. One eyed Red dangerously, but the big cat levelly stared back at him and through a desire to not cause trouble with Reno or with a massive, savage looking animal, they let him through.

Zidane, however, was another matter. He was restrained, like Squall, by the shoulder.

"No minors allowed," said the bouncer.

"But – hey, guys!" called Zidane to the others, who were rapidly disappearing into the interior. Reno was covering the rear, and once everyone was inside he turned to look at Zidane and waved goodbye to him. Zidane could almost hear him saying, "Quistis might like you for being young and endearing, but those human mountains sure aren't going to fall for it." Presently he disappeared into the interior.

Zidane huffed and backed away from the bouncers. There were other ways inside places than the main entrance, and he aimed to go and find one.

* * *

Squall was the first one inside, and took in his surroundings. He shouted so everyone could hear him – "Everyone stick together!" He turned to wave them forwards, but found that only Irvine was there, looking at him sheepishly. Squall looked around to try and spot the others, but all he could see was the wall of bodies that made up the inside of the club. 

"Crap," he said.

He moved forward, intent on regrouping the others and moving on from there, however he was met in every direction by the barrier of humans, drinking, dancing and yelling into each others ears to be heard.

Suddenly he caught a glimpse of a fiery tail through the throng and moved towards it. He made it out, bobbing along at about waist height for about twenty seconds before losing it again. Frustrated, he turned to complain to Irvine, only to find he'd lost the sniper as well.

"Dammit," he muttered, and worked his way back to where he'd been standing before to begin the search again.

He wandered the club for about ten minutes, catching sight of the people he was travelling with, only to have them elude him once again.

Squall saw Irvine at the bar, tagging along behind Reno as he chatted to an assembly of giggling women, obviously hoping to cash in on the other man's success. Quistis he spotted striding purposefully across the dance floor towards the most impressively dressed man she could see. She initiated conversation, but then a group of men wandered in front of Squall's line of sight. He saw Red's tail twice more, but had no idea what the big animal was up to. Finally, when he was about to give up and wait outside, a big group of people split apart revealing Zidane, his tail reaching towards one of the waitresses, who was giggling and batting it away playfully.

Squall marched over to the younger man, knocking into several people along the way, and grabbed him by the arm.

"Where have you been?" he demanded.

Zidane shook off Squall's hand. "I've been stuck outside, waiting for one of you guys to come get me!" he yelled back.

Squall felt a finger tap his shoulder. He looked around to see the group of people staring at him. He wondered why, and then saw that the man who had tapped him was soaking – he must have spilt his drink as he pushed past.

He raised his hands to apologise, but the man's attention was suddenly diverted. Squall looked to his side to see Reno standing there, staring levelly at the soaked guy. The group of people looked at each other, and then backed away. The waitress had disappeared.

Reno leaned in so he could be heard by Squall – "We need to talk," he said, and led him towards the rear of the club.

There were several rooms built with a level of soundproofing at the rear of the building, and Reno had apparently commandeered one because in it sat Quistis, Irvine and sprawled on the floor was Red.

"Nice of everyone to stick together," said Squall, who was now audible with the slightly muted music. "I hope everyone had fun, as we're going to have to go do some work now."

"Like, what're you talking about?" said Irvine. "We have been working."

"Oh, really?" said Squall. "All I saw was you all fooling around."

"You weren't looking very hard then," said Reno. Squall turned to glare at him. "While you were stumbling around looking for us, just out of curiosity, how much did you learn about this place?" Squall had nothing to say. "Exactly. The only one fooling around, as you put it, was you."

Squall stood in the middle of the assembled group, slightly embarrassed. Zidane was smirking at him. "Well then," said Squall, "What did you all find out?"

Zidane grunted. "Nothing, I'd only just managed to get in," he said shooting a look at Reno.

"Aww, I knew you'd be fine," said Reno, patting the kid on the head. Zidane strode away, straightening his hair, and stood next to Quistis. Reno narrowed his eyes at the monkey tailed boy before continuing. "The Boss _is_ here. There's a guarded entry to the next building over, two rooms down from this one."

"And after that there's another passageway from that building to the upstairs of this one," added Quistis.

"Good work," said Squall. "And…sorry for doubting you," he said to Quistis, but figured if anyone was so bothered about the way he'd acted they would accept that apology as one for them, too.

"For those of us who don't know what's going on," said Zidane, "Who's the Boss?"

Reno raised an eyebrow before he started to explain. "These guys are looking for him because they're trying to find out how a piece of materia from this world got all the way into their world. Red heard one of the Boss's cronies was hanging around the portal they came through, and so we're checking him out."

Zidane had become animated again. "You guys are from another world too?"

Squall gazed levelly at him, trying not to be sarcastic, and nodded. "It's a long story though. Can we try and focus?"

Zidane nodded, restraining his obvious enthusiasm at the thought of sharing dimension-jumping stories.

"So how are we going to go about this?" asked Red.

"Keep it simple," said Reno. "Kill everyone, torture for information, kill some more."

"Kill?" objected Quistis.

"Incapacitate," said Squall looking at Reno, who rolled his eyes.

"Fine," said Reno. "Just don't blame me when they all wake up and hunt you down."

"Aren't those people out there gonna be pissed off if we kill the owner of this place?" asked Irvine.

"Are you kidding?" said Reno. "_If_ they hear us rampaging upstairs, which is a big if, you think they'd care? They'll run for cover first."

Squall began to weigh up the options, and found himself not caring. He was impatient to get this mess sorted out, and it wasn't like he could damage any international relations, they were in another dimension. Rather than try and sneak past the guards, he decided that Reno, being military trained and a native of this universe, could probably judge the situation better than he could.

He shrugged. "Alright then," he said resignedly. "Let's just try and keep it down, okay?"

Reno grinned, and bowed extravagantly. "After you," he said, gesturing towards the door.

Squall led the way through the throng of people, loosing his gunblade in its sheath. If he had turned around he could have seen Reno collapsing a folded up baton, Quistis unlooping her whip and Zidane producing a small dagger, but he was too intent on the battle now. He stopped at the closed door, two down from the room they'd exited, and after a nod from Reno knocked on the door.

After a moment the door began to open slightly, and without waiting Squall kicked it open, sending the guard on the other side to the ground with a bloodied nose. His three colleagues jumped up, surprised, but the small room they occupied was suddenly filled with intruders.

Reno was next in, picking up the small TV on the table and launching it at the furthest sentry. It caught him full in the chest, exploding into its component pieces which fell to the ground along with the TV's victim. The baton found the face of the next guard, and the last sentry fell as Zidane leaped at him, smashing the butt of the dagger he held into the small of his neck.

"Non-lethal, remember?" called Squall over the din of the music.

Irvine knelt and punched the first guard in his already broken nose, making sure he was unconscious. He picked up his gun, replacing the one he had lost to the chemical spill. It wasn't his usual sniper rifle, rather a semi-automatic. He looked happy enough with it, so Squall waved everyone on – the box-like room had a second door, which opened to reveal an alley that led across to the second building. It was empty.

"High security," muttered Irvine.

"It's a slum, give them a break," replied Zidane.

There was a brick walkway above them which led back inside, from the second floor of the opposite building. Zidane pointed above them, and following his finger Squall made out a ladder, folded up against the bridge.

"How convenient," commented Quistis, but Red just shrugged.

"It's an old Shinra building. They might have been an evil corporation but they still had health and safety regulations to adhere to. For their employees, at least. It's a fire exit."

A boost up provided by Irvine allowed Zidane to reach the ladder and collapse it, permitting them to climb up and bypass the second building entirely.

Irvine was the last person to reach the higher level. "Quisty's right," he said. "I don't like this…like, wouldn't you have taken the ladder down?"

"I would have," said Squall, and left the rest of the sentence unsaid.

Reno was eager to continue, so they abandoned their discussion and moved to the door leading to the second floor of the club.

"Ready?" asked Squall to Irvine, his hand on the door handle. Irvine nodded, and Squall threw the door open, Irvine surging through, weapon hoisted.

The chamber beyond was empty.

After the inevitable, brief moment of anticlimax all heads turned to Reno, who could only scratch his head.

"Could've sworn…" he said.

A balcony to their left let them see most of the bar below them through sheets of glass placed over the opening, and above the storerooms and back rooms was the room they stood in. There was a large dais raised in the middle, allowing the seated to look down on the crowd, and there was room for dozens of guards to stand around the seat of power. The only door was the one they had entered from.

"They were never here?" said Squall.

"Or we caught them on the way out," said Red, trotting to the balcony to scan the crowd below for anyone he recognised. A nod from Squall saw Reno join him, looking for any of the Boss's cronies he could spot.

After a few minutes, Irvine could restrain himself no longer. "Can you see anything?"

Reno narrowed his eyes and glared sideways. "Yeah, I'm standing here for the hell of it. I'll tell you in a minute."

Red was narrowing his eyes too, but at something he had seen down in the crowd. A prominent head of hair, jutting above the others surrounding it like a shark's fin cutting through the ocean.

Squall noticed. "What is it, Red?" he asked, stepping forward.

Red was furiously scanning the crowd, but through the wall of revellers he'd lost his target.

Reno stepped sideways from the big cat. "Uhm, Red? You look like you're gonna murder something. Can it not be me?"

Red ignored everything around him, and a few seconds later his prey entered his vision once again. "There!" he called to Reno, so eager that he lifted himself onto the balcony ledge with his front paws and strained forward, nose pressing against the glass.

Reno's eyes followed Red's gaze and they stopped, and then blinked. He rubbed his them, and then blinked again, as if to be sure. Then his lips split in a wide smile.

"What's going on?" said Squall, starting to get worried. He joined them at the balcony, scanning the crowd for whatever they had just seen.

Reno pointed for him. "See that guy?"

Squall sighed impatiently. "There are a lot of guys down there, Reno."

Reno was smirking to himself about something he obviously wanted to build up the suspense of. Patiently, he continued his description. "Standing near the middle of the larger group of guys? The one with the hair."

Squall was about to make a repeat comment when he saw the man Reno was describing – tall, serious looking, but his most distinctive feature being the tower of blond hair jutting towards the ceiling.

"Who is he?" asked Squall, confused.

"His name is Cloud," said Reno, with great weight. "The leader of AVALANCHE."

"He saved the Planet," said Red. "We've been looking for him, but…we thought he might even be dead."

Squall looked between Red and Reno, struggling to find the relevance to Red's old leader and companion and their objective.

"Oh," said Squall. "That's…interesting."

"What's more interesting to me is…" continued Reno. "You see that guy at the bar next to him?"

"Yeah," said Squall, making out a diminutive figure on a stool.

"Yeah. That's the new Boss."

Red snapped his head to glare at Reno. "Do you mean to suggest that Cloud – _Cloud_ – is working for the local crime lord of Midgar?"

Reno was smiling happily. "Red, that's Mayor Domino. I mean I thought I'd live to see some strange things, but Cloud Strife working for _Domino_…"

Suddenly the door to the alleyway was thrown open, and the swirling light from dozens of moving flashlights filled the chamber. Soldiers – not like the lazy sentries from downstairs, fully equipped commandos armed to the teeth – poured into the room, screaming for them to stand down, to get on the floor, to not resist.

Hopelessly outnumbered and blinded by the harsh light of the torches, Squall lifted his hands into the air and hoped no-one would try anything stupid, like attacking the assembled hordes of Midgar's biggest crime syndicate.

* * *

Author's Note: Don't forget to feed the writers! Contrary to popular belief, we LIKE reviews!


	17. The Tournament Begins

Siegfried could feel the fever reach a new high. Sweat covered his brow, pouring into his eyes to the point where he could only see an indistinct blur about him. A memory of a memory told him where he was, how he got there, but the details were as fuzzed over as his vision was. He recalled stumbling back to his safe house. And something about an inn. Clyde's? That was right. He'd gone after Clyde… No… it was Kain he was supposed to be after, but the bounty on Clyde was just too tempting. Clyde became the primary objective, Kain the secondary. That had probably been a mistake.

His head throbbed, but he had difficulties remembering why it was a mistake. Why had he been after Kain in the first place? The man was a foreigner of some sort, he remembered that much. His employer, a man named Mister Ajuk, had ordered the hit on Kain. But why? Had it been explained? If only he could think. Why was he feeling so ill?

Suddenly, Siegfried remembered, and the blood drained from his face.

"_Now now," Siegfried protested. "There doesn't need to be a fight. Clyde here is wanted for train robbery. And as I recall, the bounty warrant does want him dead rather than alive. I represent the proper authorities, and as such—"_

"_I haven't been Clyde for a long time," Shadow said. "Nor am I him now. Clyde died alongside Baram years ago. I think you've bit off more than you can chew."_

_Siegfried snorted. "And if you're not Clyde now, then who are you?"_

"_Shadow."_

A fight had erupted. A horrible one, where his men were slaughtered by the three fighters, each of them naturally complimenting each other's fighting style, and each great in their own right. But that wasn't the worst of it. Shadow had slashed him. Cut him with a poisoned dagger.

And now Siegfried was dying from the slow sickness that was overtaking him. The only reason that he wasn't dead already from the normally fast-acting poison was a number of herbs he had taken before passing out in his safe room.

But time was running out quickly now. Not even the vile potions and elixirs that he had littered about would save him. But he had to try anyway. He stumbled, tripped over things he couldn't see that lay strewn about the floor. Slamming into the ground, he refused to let that deter him. He began clawing at the floorboards, dragging himself forward, finding he didn't have the strength to get up and crawl.

"I think I like seeing you like this."

Siegfried stopped cold. He couldn't see the owner of the voice, but he knew who it was. That voice, wavering between a male soprano and a female contralto, making it seem both, yet neither. Only one person had a voice like that, one that Siegfried had known, although not well. Mister Ajuk. The man who had sent him to kill Kain.

"Do you know what you've done?" the voice continued. Siegfried cast worried glances, thrashing his head from side to side, but the blurred vision induced by the poison prevented him from seeing the speaker. Ajuk continued, "Because of you, Kain Highwind still lives, and is now surrounded by allies. Powerful allies. That… that… that _Cetra_…" he spat the word as if it were a curse, "… him and his accursed kind. He sent Kain on a mission to stop it all. Something we've worked years to achieve, and Highwind may very well stop us. Do you know what we contend with? I just glanced in on Highwind. I know his companions, the ones Golbez chose out for him. The rules of The Game prevent Golbez from assisting too much. He could only give Kain a small amount of power, and not all the names of all the people required. But that blasted Highwind found them all regardless! Cyan Garamonde. Shadow. Amarant Coral. Fujin Kochi. Vincent Valentine. He has them _all_ except for one. And now _I_ have to stop him from getting that last one."

"We…" Siegfried rasped. "Give me… last chance. _We_… stop him."

Ajuk's odd voice sounded amused. "We stop him? My, the arrogance. But I do require agents. I will attend to Kain's final ally. In the mean time, you are to gather allies to serve me. The rules of the Game state say nothing of my ability or inability to gather allies, just that I equal whatever force that the other side has. Very well. They have seven. So shall we have seven."

"C… cure…" Siegfried said.

"Very well," Ajuk said. "I shall save you. But know that if you fail me again…"

Siegfried gasped as magical energy coursed through his body. The gash along his arm disappeared, and the poison in him began to boil. He screamed abruptly, as searing heat filled him. It felt as if tiny glass shards traveled along his veins, cutting everything as they went. He knew he screamed, but not when he began, and did not stop until he passed out from the pain.

When he awoke, he could feel the dampness of tears along his cheeks. Had he cried? Everything about him ached, but inside and out. Standing up, he stared Ajuk in the face. The feminine appearing man met his gaze, two aqua eyes staring out from beneath a mass of purple and white hair.

"A reminder never to fail me again," Ajuk said firmly. "Now give me your weapon."

Siegfried didn't question the order, just unsheathed his rapier and handed it to Ajuk, handle first. He took hold of it firmly, but unconfidently. He clearly didn't know which end of a weapon was which.

A glow began to pulse from Ajuk's hand, and the rapier began to glow with an intense purple light. After a moment it faded, and Ajuk nodded, smiling to himself. "Not so hard to do. Unlike Highwind, you will have the names of all your allies, their locations, and ability to teleport back to my side when you are done. Now go."

Siegfried nodded, and turned to gather his equipment and various items he would need. As soon as he did, it occurred to him that he didn't even know how the magic that his weapon was imbued with would work. He turned to ask Mister Ajuk, only to find him already gone.

Chapter Seventeen

The Tournament Begins

Shadow had only been in Gold Saucer for several minutes, and already he was beginning to feel the urge to pull out his shuriken and killing anything that moved. It was too crowded, for one. People all about were too jam-packed, and always intermingling. And the lights were far too bright, worsened only by the brilliant flashes of colour from fireworks displays. And worst of all, the noise. A steady stream of talking, the loud bangs of the fireworks, children screaming and whooping, devices made for entertainment with loud sound effects. This Gold Saucer was worse than any city Shadow had ever been to.

And he didn't trust his company either. Vincent Valentine led the way, a confident stride as he headed towards a place called 'Battle Square.' The others, for various reasons, had to stay behind, so the assassin was stuck with this man who proclaimed himself to be a 'Turk', whatever that was. Judging from the way he walked, and the way he handled his three-barreled gun, more than likely it was another word for assassin. Shadow knew his own kind, and Vincent Valentine was clearly just that.

The assassin pondered the threat of Valentine, all the while playing out the events of the past eight hours. He wasn't sure why the man had originally began to follow them, nor why he agreed to help, but he was determined to figure it out.

"_Can you help us?" Kain asked._

_Shadow counted the breaths it took for Valentine's response, the number of heartbeats. "I will take you to Gold Saucer."_

_The man didn't answer too quickly, nor too slowly. Which either meant he was sincere in his offer for help, or he was a very, very good liar. Shadow was still certain that Valentine posed some sort of threat, but what kind, he wasn't sure of yet. The man had gone down quickly when they had fought him earlier, but that fight had still been four against one. And Shadow still suspected Valentine had held something back, hadn't committed everything in his arsenal. _

_Valentine continued, "Your friend won't last long from such a wound from Masamune. I suspect he will be able to hold out for a day, perhaps, provided a continuous string of Cure spells are cast on him, he is watched over, and not moved."_

"_So we can't take him to this Gold Saucer," Kain said, all while he fingered the haft of his lance, a look resembling concentration on his face. Shadow recognized the look. He was trying to locate their last ally while talking at the same time. "We'll have to leave someone here to protect him."_

"_ME," Fujin said, though distaste was evident by her expression._

"_Yes," Cyan said. "Miss Fujin can cast spells, and shouldst provide an adequate guard whilst the rest of us tarry to Gold Saucer for the knave Amarant's treatment."_

_Vincent shook his head. "No. I'll need to travel quickly to Gold Saucer in order to find my… friend. She'll have the Full Cure Materia, but I can't afford to be seen with a group. It might cause her to rabbit. Worse, I'll need to travel quickly to Gold Saucer to reach it in time. A group moves only as quickly as its slowest member, and for the moment, your companion doesn't have the luxury to wait on men in plate armor. I will have to go alone."_

_Shadow's eyes narrowed. Was the man up to some sort of deceit? Kain nodded, though, and said, "Very well. Go to Gold Saucer. Find us this 'Materia' and bring it back quickly. But take Shadow with you. You'll find he can travel quickly, and will prove useful. Also…Cyan, you'll stay here with Fujin while she keeps Amarant alive."_

"_What about you?" Shadow asked._

_Hefting his lance, the Dragoon replied, "I'll be following Sephiroth." Cyan looked about to blurt something idiotic, and Valentine stirred, but Kain shook off any possible response, firmly stating, "I need to know where he's going. He's in this world for a reason. I won't get too close, and I won't engage him. If worse comes to worst, I'll run, and in the mountains, with my Dragoon leaps, I can put a fair distance between myself and another very quickly. We have to find out why he's here, and my lance is the only way we have of following him since he doesn't seem to leave any other trail."_

"_That's not necessarily true," Vincent said. "Sephiroth is from this world, and I have had experience with him. The last time we saw him, he left a fairly easy trail for us to follow, though I doubt you'll like it."_

"_And it was?"_

"_Just follow the path of dead bodies."_

_A sense of foreboding fell over them all. They now knew that Sephiroth was dangerous, but not to what extent. Shadow made note to question Valentine on how the man was defeated the 'last time.' If he had been at all._

_Vincent turned to leave, and Shadow began to follow, but Kain stepped forward and tugged on a sleeve. "Keep an eye on him."_

_The assassin nodded, "Of course."_

"_Also… our last ally will be in the Gold Saucer. Fate, perhaps, but as we spoke of it, the word kept resonating in my mind, and I received an image of a man in white. Orange hair. And arrogance to nearly rival Amarant's. He's dangerous, and won't want to come with you. Find a way to make him come. I'll leave the method to your discretion."_

That had been just eight hours ago. Vincent spoke of a chocobo farm nearby, but said that it would turn a two day trip to a ten hour one. Pushing their mounts, the two had made it in eight. They had proven to be good companions, but more in the sense that their flair for efficiency tended to rub off on each other. They had no need to talk to one another, to trade stories, to show weakness, or to need breaks. They both knew they had a mission ahead of them, and they both performed it perfectly.

And now they were in this God-forsaken … _amusement park_, trying to get registered in a tournament, just so they could meet an old friend of Valentine's who may or may not give them what they needed, to help an ally that Kain may or may not want.

"Remind me again," Shadow said, "why we actually have to _enter_ this tournament in order to meet up with your 'friend.'"

"This tournament is being run by a man named Dio. Dio respects strength and prowess in battle above all else. The only people who will be allowed in Battle Square are participants in the tournament, and the very wealthy who can afford tickets in. And since I do not have ten thousand gil on me, which is what Dio is charging for admission as a spectator, and I suspect that you have no money which resembles the currency of this world… we will have to enter."

"But what makes you so sure your 'friend' will be here?"

"The victory prize will be a 'one of a kind' Materia. If I know the little thief, she'll be here. If not to win it in battle, then to steal it. Likely, she'll be here in secret, under an assumed name, completely incognito. But I should be able to identify her easily enough, and we can nab her between fights."

Just then, a trumpet blared, and people turned heads as a column of armored warriors marched in, all wearing armor akin to the knights of Doma Shadow had seen before that country had fallen. Samurai, then, like Cyan. But ceremonial from the looks of it. Their weapons were ornamental, their armor made for show. And in the middle of their mass was a palanquin, carried by eight strong men. Surmounted on each pole was a white flag, depicting a blue sea serpent in the middle. On the palanquin, with the curtains drawn open, was a girl, maybe seventeen years of age, dressed in a kimono, and sporting a devilish grin on her face. As the procession passed by, Vincent slapped the golden-clawed hand over his face and swore. The girl saw him, waved, and ordered a halt to her little parade.

"Vinny!" she cried.

Valentine appeared to try to cover more of his face with his hand, as if by doing so, he could hide his identity entirely and disappear.

"Come here, you!" she said imperiously. The guards shifted, and petulantly, she commanded, "Let him pass."

The guards opened a small hole, large enough for a man, in their ranks. The girl beckoned them forward, waving one hand outrageously, and nearly bouncing in her pillow and lace-covered litter.

"I suppose I should get this over with," Vincent muttered. "She _is_ the one we're here to see."

The Turk moved forward, and Shadow followed. The guards gave the black-clad assassin a hard look, and the girl gave a curious one.

"He's with me," Vincent said.

The girl nodded, and when the two were past the ring of guards, the hole closed again. Shadow tensed. It felt like a trap, even in public as it was.

"I haven't seen you in _forever, _Vinny. Where've you been? Who's your friend?" she asked.

"His name is Shadow. Shadow, this is Yuffie Kisaragi, Princess of Wutai, and a thief beyond reproach."

"Shadow, huh?" Yuffie said. "Never heard of ya. Funny, considering you move like a ninja. You're not Wutaian. Where'd you train?"

So, she had a keen eye. For all her frippery and bubbling youth, she knew what she was about. "My past is my own business. Vincent?"

"We're here for my Materia," the Turk said plainly. "It's an emergency."

"Sorry," she said, a cautious and bored look coming into her eyes. "Left it all in Wutai. Anyway, gotta sign up for the tournament, bye now."

A guard abruptly grabbed Shadow by the shoulder, and he nearly drew his knife and ended the man right there. He noticed that another had done the same to Vincent, and the Turk was similarly barely restraining himself from reaching for his gun. The girl abruptly said, "Unhand them. I don't have enough guards to throw away their lives from stupid gestures."

The guards released them, and Shadow turned and walked from the ring, Vincent similarly followed, a look of obvious disgust on his face. When the two were out of hearing range, Vincent said, "I wasn't expecting that. Yuffie normally disdains her title. She's up to something here. Something other than the tournament, but I don't know what. Plan A won't work, though, not with those guards she has."

"Do you believe she has the Full Cure Materia with her?"

"Of course she does," Vincent said. "Yuffie never lets any Materia leave her presence unless she _knows_ it's secure. We have to move on with Plan B, then."

Shadow nodded. Any good assassin always had a secondary plan. And a third one as well. "We win the tournament, and barter this 'mystery Materia' to her for the Full Cure?"

"Exactly."

The two made their way to the signup platforms. Many onlookers watched from afar, but none seemed to have the nerve to move forward. Vincent and Shadow stepped up, where a blond-haired woman in a blue suit seemed to doze, a stack of papers in front of her.

"I'm here to sign up for the tournament, Elena," Vincent said.

The woman jerked up, her eyes widening, and then took in Vincent. Her jaw dropped for a second, then shut with an audible snap. "Vincent. Uh… hi. You're here to sign up? I'll, uh… do you want to purchase our insurance plan, in case you get injured during the tournament?"

"I'm not planning on allowing myself to be injured," Vincent said firmly. "The sign up sheets?"

She pulled out a small bundle, and handed it to him, as well as a pen. Vincent moved slightly to the side and began to fill them out as Shadow moved forward, and demanded his own papers. The woman gulped, and asked if he wanted to sign for an insurance plan. He leveled his most penetrating gaze at her. She hurriedly handed him the papers, and quickly found an excuse to be somewhere else.

Taking the pen, Shadow frowned at the forms. Oddly enough, the spoken and written languages of his world and this one were the same. Even more odd was the fact that they seemed to be the same everywhere he went, which only furthered his own suspicion that the worlds were all somehow connected. He'd begun to notice little similarities, and made mental note of them all. If it ever became important, he'd mention them to Kain, but for the moment, he could only stare helplessly at the form.

He hated asking for help. On principle, he just tended not to do it at all and went ahead with whatever he would normally do, but this called for something else. Sighing, he asked, "What's your month system in this place?"

"Excuse me?" Vincent said, looking up from his own papers.

"Your months. What are they called? What year is it here? I need to know for the paperwork. It's asking for my date of birth."

"January, February, March—"

"March. Good enough." He wasn't entirely sure how to spell the first two months, and just picked the first one he was confident of. He was certain he could sound them out correctly, but he had no intention of possibly flubbing it and coming off as a simpleton. He quickly scrawled in 'March 32nd' into the first field.

"Say you were born in 2365. And our months only have 31 days at most in this world."

Shadow glared at the sheet, trying to make sure Vincent didn't see his expression. Only 31 days _at most_? What kind of short months did these people have? And didn't that imply that their months had varying lengths? What kind of silliness was that? He scribbled out the '32' and replaced it with a '16' just to be safe.

He moved on to the next field and swore. "Where can I be from?"

Vincent, seemingly amused, asked, "Excuse me?"

"Place of birth. You know what I mean. Just name a place I can be from."

"Given your occupation, I think it would be best if you put in 'Wutai.' Just don't take off your veil, otherwise people will know you're not Wutaian."

Grumbling, Shadow said, "Wutai. Spell that for me."

The rest of the form proved to be far less of a task, asking the various fighting disciplines he was a master of, his skill level with Materia which he grudgingly had to put a 'zero' on, and asking the history he'd put his combat prowess to. Not sure if he'd get arrested if he mentioned the possibly hundreds of kills he had performed in his tenure as an assassin, he asked Vincent to give him a few pointers to fill in, which he supplied something about the Midgar/Wutai war.

As he was finishing up, a man stepped up to the booth, and sat down in the seat that Elena had formerly been at. When he was done, Shadow looked up, and let in a sudden intake of breath. The man wore a white suit, had orange hair, and an arrogant smirk on his face.

The one Kain had told Shadow about. This was their last ally. Sizing him up, Shadow felt an odd distaste in his mouth. This man was no warrior. Probably capable at best, but he was nowhere near anyone's league in the group. The assassin suspected that even Fujin, who he considered to be the weakest of them, would be able to defeat him with ease.

"Rufus," Vincent said, looking up from his own paperwork.

The man's smile broadened, but it was a cold thing, comprised mostly of ice. "Valentine. I see you're going to compete in my tournament alongside…" he leaned forward, glancing at the assassin's papers, "…Shadow. Best of luck to you. If I'd known you were competing, I would have told Elena that paperwork from you isn't necessary. We have all of your information from your files as a Turk."

"Do you, now?" Vincent said, sounding amused. "I would have thought you'd have lost it all alongside your Presidency of Shinra Incorporated."

"Yes, you would, wouldn't you. Fortunately, not all is lost that easily." He reached across the table and took their papers, despite neither of them being entirely finished. "Good day to you. Match ups will be posted in a few minutes."

When Rufus had left, Shadow asked, "What was that about?"

"I'm not sure," Vincent admitted. "Rufus always has a purpose for everything. He was sizing us up for something, but I'm not sure what. Regardless, it's not our problem. At least, not yet. We should be ready, but not pursue it too greatly."

The two moved to a corner in the waiting room. The crowd that was beginning to gather was growing as a large billboard which Vincent called a 'television' was lit up, with moving pictures displayed. All this technology that this world seemed to have, and it squandered it on useless trinkets.

A series of names began to light up the screen as a chart was shown, displaying who each participant would fight. Shadow's name was displayed near the top, paired off against someone named 'Rude.'

"Be careful," Vincent said. "Rude is a Turk, like myself. I doubt Rufus purposely set him up against you so soon. Likely, Rude did it himself. I don't know much about him, but whenever Avalanche encountered the Turks, he always seemed to fight whoever he deemed the strongest. Likely, he's doing that here as well somehow."

But Shadow was only half listening, as he scanned the rest of the names. His heart skipped a beat as he saw the name paired up against Valentine. It couldn't be him. It _couldn't_ be. But all the same, Shadow knew it was too much of a coincidence.

"You had better be careful as well," the assassin said. "For in the first round, you fight Locke Cole."

* * *

Author's Note:

Next week's chapter may be late. We're sticking to the weekly schedule. Note, the chapter for next week is already written. However, we're trying to stay ahead of the game, and one of the writers of this project (Won't name which) has gone absent rather abruptly. So, the project may or may not be on hold until he is located.

Remember to review, people. So far, only Macky's been showing some real support. And short as his reviews are, we love him for them. : P


	18. Turncoat

Chapter Eighteen

Turncoat

"Guys?" said Squall lowly as the circle of armed guards moved in towards them, at least two automatic weapons pointed at each of their heads. "Don't panic at what's about to happen."

He reached his focus inward, seeking out the part of his mind that housed not his memories like it should, but the entities that enabled him to overcome extraordinary circumstances and fight with massive strength on his behalf. He quieted the sound of the music, the footsteps of the guards approaching him, and the worried mutterings of his companions as they waited, Irvine and Quistis who knew what was coming, the rest doubtless wondering what he was up to.

He felt the quiet corner of his mind awaken where his one dormant Guardian Force had thus far slumbered, and felt it reach outwards to become manifest in his physical world.

His eyes opened to find the thugs practically on top of them, but he saw one man's eyes widen, closely followed by the rest, looking above and behind them. Squall didn't have to look around to know that his GF was revealing itself slowly, forming into its physical manifestation before it made its attack.

Irvine glanced behind him and his eyes widened and his face drained slightly of colour. "Uhm, Squall?" he asked. "I don't know if that's such a good idea."

Quistis looked at what was worrying Irvine and mimicked his reaction unconsciously. "There's not much we can do about it now…"

Squall had already summoned the GF, and it was impossible to send it back until it had been defeated or had carried out its attack. The first was now impossible and now the only thing they could do was sit out the attack.

"Brace yourselves," advised Quistis to the others who were unaware what was about to happen.

Squall felt the GF's presence reach its climax directly behind him, and could picture in his mind what was happening due to his telepathic link with the creature.

As a result of the confined space the room presented, only part of the GF's form could manifest inside the building. Leviathan's head was now occupying the space above their heads, reaching through a gateway where the rest of its physical form was being held in limbo between dimensions. It screeched and Squall could feel rather than hear the panic building in the club below them, so intense was the shriek that it cracked several panes of glass and penetrated the music playing in the bar.

"Is that what I think it is…?" asked Reno slowly, right as the GF unleashed its attack. Its mouth opened and with the next shriek torrents of water crashed directly into the group of thugs, smashing them into the wall, breaking bones and knocking some of them unconscious.

Physics took over and the water, having served its purpose as an attack against the thugs, washed against the wall and swept along the side of the room, crashing into the other walls and creating a series of different undercurrents that rushed towards the trapped group. Irvine tensed as the wave took his legs from underneath him and sent him hurtling towards the door they entered from – that was the last thing he saw before he sank beneath the surface of the water, nostrils filling with water. He unconsciously grabbed his hat and saved it from being rushed from his head, and then he was swept around and crashed into the door with his back.

He gasped for air as he surfaced above the flow of water rushing through the open door, and clamped onto the side of the walkway with his free hand as the water cascaded around him, travelling around him at great speed along the funnel-like passageway to smash the doors to the adjacent building. He heard surprised yells from inside, and hauled himself to his feet. He lifted the hat from his head, allowing the reservoir of water to flow down around his ears and down his coat, and then rushed back into the room they had just involuntarily vacated.

* * *

The blast of water circled around Squall, knocking the people at the back of their group off their feet, and then a split second later crashed bodily into him, knocking him backwards towards the observation windows.

The inhabitants of the club, panicked by the sight and sound of Leviathan attacking, were already fleeing through the exits so there was no way for them to go faster when the water smashed the glass and plummeted to the bar below carrying Squall with it. The crowd started screaming anew as the water started pooling around their ankles, splashing them with the spray of the summoned GF.

Squall hit the ground hard, lungs emptying of air, and tried rolling to balance the shock of impact. He was partially successful, until the result of his summon splashed into his back and swept him to the ground again. He sat up, coughing and spluttering, liquid pouring off his head and into his eyes, while he fumbled for his gunblade.

The Boss, who Reno had identified as Domino, had leapt onto the bar and now stood glaring imperiously down on Squall while the rest of his minions were scattered, some losing their balance in the flow of water, others trying to seek higher ground to escape it.

One though, the one standing directly between where Squall lay and where Domino towered on the bar, seemed completely unaffected by the currents that were now swirling around his knees. Cloud, Reno had called him. Now he stared passively, blankly, at Squall, belying his stance; one hand reaching over the back of his head to hold the hilt of the long sword strapped to his back.

Suddenly Domino snapped his fingers and pointed at Squall. At almost the exact same time, Cloud surged forward, no emotion showing on his face, his sword flashing above his head in an arc towards Squall, whose reflexes took over at the last instant to push himself out of the way. The massive sword splashed into the water where Squall had just been sitting, and the SeeD tightened his grip on the gunblade, bringing it up to counterattack but Cloud was already there.

Squall's finger tensed on the trigger but before he could bring the blade around to aim properly at his attacker Cloud had knocked the gunblade to the side. His fist buried into Squall's chest and he staggered back, his foot catching something under the debilitating water and he crashed to the floor again. The movement jarred him badly enough for him to accidentally pull the trigger on the gunblade as he fell, and it exploded outward, blowing a chunk out of the bar.

Cloud, relentless in his attack, brought his foot to connect solidly with Squall's face but the SeeD's reflexes hadn't abandoned him entirely. He ducked under the surface of the water, his senses drowned momentarily, and brought his legs to attack Cloud's. With his entire weight on one leg, he was unable to stop Squall's strike and it flew from underneath him, forcing him to the ground. Squall resurfaced as Cloud went under, gasping for air. He clambered to his feet awkwardly and levelled his gunblade at the figure of Cloud, who was slowly rising, as if pre-empting Squall's unwillingness to cut him down.

Or wanting Squall to strike him.

Domino cackled with glee from his pedestal of the bar, snapping his fingers at Squall once again. With absolutely no hesitation, Cloud brought his massive sword in a strike that would have been lethal had Squall not blocked the attack with his own blade. Cloud pressed forward, sparks flying from their weapons as they engaged in a dance of death, neither one gaining an advantage.

Squall made the mistake of underestimating Cloud's mental character, however. His previous hesitation had given Squall the impression that Cloud had been holding back, and so did not anticipate that Cloud would make a feint so subtle as the one he made about a minute into their duel. Squall drew up his weapon in order to deflect the blow Cloud looked like he was about to make – his muscles tensed in such a way to make an upward swipe. Squall brought his blade down as if to capture Cloud's weapon between his and the floor and disarm him, however Cloud didn't make the swipe. Instead, he abandoned the use of his sword altogether, and before Squall even realised it had happened, Cloud drew his fist back and smashed it into Squall's face.

The SeeD fell back, utterly defenceless against Cloud's next, inevitable strike. However, it didn't come. The bar rang with the abrupt metallic snap of a rifle cocking. Cloud froze, his sword drawn closely to his torso ready to run Squall through.

Squall looked first towards the bar, and then to the laser dancing across Domino's heart. Irvine had set up an impromptu sniper nest in the chamber above them, and Cloud was apparently capable enough to protect Domino in every capacity, including the situation they now found themselves in.

Domino spluttered with impotent rage and then clapped his hands together. Cloud lowered his weapon into a more benign but still combat ready position.

"Nice fight," came a laconic voice from behind Squall. He didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

"Thanks for helping out," he replied.

"Looked like you had it under control," said Reno. Squall didn't see fit to continue the conversation.

Meanwhile, Domino had regained his composure somewhat. "This is intolerable!" he declared.

"Yeah, it is," said Irvine from up above them. "Your voice is more than I can stand."

Squall and Cloud were circling each other warily. "I have some questions I want to ask you," said the SeeD to the gang leader. "And I'd suggest you try and accommodate me."

Domino glared at him. "I'll do no such thing!"

Suddenly he screamed in pain as his lower leg exploded and he collapsed writhing into the water at the front of the bar. Reno smirked as his bullet drove home.

Squall whirled in surprise, and Cloud lunged – not for him, but for an inert figure lying on the debris littering the room. He grabbed the length of golden hair and set his sword against the throat of his hostage.

"Have you lost your mind!" shouted Squall at Reno, who pointed his gun at Cloud at the man's sudden movement. Squall skipped to the side to try and evade Reno's shot, but then straightened when he realised he was threatening Cloud. The Turk raised an eyebrow at Squall but then returned his full attention to the towering blond menace that faced them.

His sword layed across Quistis' throat, he started to drag her through the water towards Domino and the exit. Squall kept pace with him, but was unable to attempt an attack because Cloud would surely kill Quistis before he moved two steps. The most un-nerving thing about him was that he had made no noise whatsoever since they first encountered one another.

Domino had clawed his way to standing and was gasping in pain from the bullet wound in his leg.

"Don't try and follow us, or your friend will die," he rasped. He grabbed the shoulder of a nearby minion and started to hobble towards the exit. Then he stopped, seemed to remember something and turned back to his group of opponents.

"Well? Are you coming or not?"

Reno seemed to weigh it up in his mind and then nodded half-heartedly.

"Yeah, why not?"

He walked towards Domino amid choked sounds of outrage coming from Squall's throat. He turned to the SeeD as he walked.

"No offence Squall. The pay is just much better than the nothing you're paying me."

Squall could only watch helplessly as the gang emptied out from the bar, Irvine's laser darting feebly between Cloud, Reno and Domino. Abruptly, they were completely alone in the building.

A few strained moments of silence filled the huge bar, and then a gravely voice echoed around it.

"If you have any intention of moving to rescue your friend, which I'm sure you do, then you'd better move quickly."

Squall turned expressionlessly to face Red. "And why's that?"

Red cocked his head to one side as he spoke. "Unless you catch them in transit, you're going to have to attack their headquarters, which are at worst unassailable."

"We've been in tough fights before," asserted Irvine.

Red ignored this comment. "There is another reason. I assume that your friend has a similar summon creature to the one you just used locked inside her head." At Squall's nod, he continued. "It would be unwise to allow Domino access to any kind of summoning monster. After the war, we managed to either hide or entrust most of the summon materia we had used, fearing it would be used for malignant purposes if one of the petty gangs got a hold of it. They would use it without constraint or regard for life, and could potentially lay waste to continents."

"Where are their headquarters?"

"In a building in the centre of the city. It used to be Shinra Headquarters before it was devastated by Weapon and Meteor. They've managed to rebuild most of it and Domino has a small army fortifying the position."

"Unassailable?" asked Squall, and Red nodded. He sheathed his gunblade and seemed to regard this information for a moment. Then he reached a decision. "All right. We're going to attack it."

Irvine started above them. "Woah, woah, woah. Let's just think twice about making war against an army inside a fortress with just the three of us."

"Four," corrected Squall. "Where's Zidane?"

"He's gone. I checked the building for survivors and although I could smell him, he had since vacated the premises."

Squall made a wry face, and then shrugged it off. "He was a liability anyway."

"Amen," agreed Irvine. "Wait. That brings us back down to three."

Squall nodded fiercely. "And two of us are SeeDs. They haven't faced anything like us before. Our lives are combat and war. They won't know what's hit them." He turned to Red. "Are you coming?"

Red sighed almost inaudibly, and then nodded. "Although I seem to be making a habit of that building…yes, I'll help you. If nothing else I know the layout of the building."

"Excellent. Then let's roll."


	19. First Rounds

Rufus sat in his new office, a glass of brandy in his hand, a phone in the other. He wasn't entirely aware of either, so shocked he was of the news he had just received. Events were moving quickly. Far more quickly than he had anticipated. That idiot man in Midgar, the one who dared thing himself in control, Domino… he had finally revealed his hand. Something was happening in Midgar right at that moment, but Rufus had no way of getting there in time. Agents of his in a bar had reported sightings of Cloud – _Cloud!_ – working for the fool.

Something was happening. Was Avalanche throwing its support behind Domino?

The implications of that did not bode well. Both Yuffie Kisaragi _and_ Vincent Valentine had appeared for Dio's tournament. And not just them. The Wutaian ninja with Valentine, as well. Were they really there for the prize, or were they working in some sort of Avalanche scheme, possibly to end his rise to power before it even truly began again?

Rufus nearly jumped as the phone began to beep, the annoying dial tone ringing throughout his office. He looked down to the phone in his hand, only just remembering why it was there, and carefully hung it up.

He was so _close_. He couldn't afford for random enemies to begin appearing. He stood up, walked a circle around his desk, and sipped at his brandy. By the time he reached his chair again, he was calm, composed. If Avalanche wanted to face him once again, let them. He was prepared.

Glancing at his appointment schedule, he frowned. Two names he didn't recognize, and two that he did. Dio likely wanted to host his tournament. To which Rufus would once again be forced to decline. The man had to realize who was in charge now. But the other three…

Yuffia Kisaragi had been signed into the tournament already. So, why did she want to meet with Rufus? Possibly a trap. He'd have to make sure Elena was in the room for when she came in.

A … Mister Ajuk was also on the list. Rufus had no idea who that was, but apparently the man had left quite an impression on his secretary.

And then the last person on his list. A boy who wanted into the tournament, even after it had already started. That would be easy enough to fix. The tournament had a slot open anyway, and Rufus could afford for him to enter. The only odd thing about the boy was that no one seemed to remember him actually come into Gold Saucer by the main entrance. Best to keep an eye on him. Avalanche sympathies were at an all time high post-Meteor.

He buzzed his secretary, and told her to let Yuffie in. As he did, he crossed his newly furnished office, to the black table on the other side. On it lay a ornately gilded box, studded with gems and inlaid with gold. Inside was a Materia. Supposedly a one of a kind, with no others in all the world like it. The prize for the tournament. Rufus hadn't taken the time to look at it, but Dio said that anyone who used it could teleport wherever they wished. A very valuable prize. One that Rufus wasn't entirely sure he wished to part with.

He moved his hand to open the chest. He had to see it. Just once. Something about it made him uneasy, but he knew what lay inside was power. And power was what Rufus Shinra dreamed of more than anything. He could almost hear it singing to him, calling his name. If he could just….

"Ahem."

Snapping his hand back to his side, Rufus turned to see Yuffie, dressed in a regal kimono fitting of a Wutaian princess, and flanked by two guards. They both worth ceremonial armor and weapons, nearly useless in actual battle. So, Wutai still followed the treaty of the Midgar/Wutai war. Their samurai were forbidden to carry real weapons outside their own domain.

"Sit," he said, gesturing to a chair, and then to the guards, added, "Leave us."

The two men glanced from Rufus to Yuffie, but she nodded. When they were gone, she carefully placed herself with perfect dignity on the chair. But despite the dignity, there was also a show of flaunting. She moved in such a way that she bent forward slightly, just enough so that he could attempt to look down her top if he wanted. Which he firmly had no intention of doing. She had done it on purpose, he was certain. Traditional kimono had as many as twelve layers. This one had two very simply, if brilliantly patterned, ones. It was meant to be flirtatious wear, albeit formal flirtatious wear.

She wasn't the Yuffie Kisaragi he remembered, the spunky ninja who seemed to have no respect for authority whatsoever. He'd met her a few times, on state visits with his father to Wutai. For the longest time, odd as it may seem, she'd been the closest thing to a friend he'd had. Not a real friend. Their age differences had been too great, the young Shinra being sixteen when they first met, and the Wutaian Princess being ten. And Rufus' temperament was ever an obstacle to any lasting friendship. It didn't matter now, though.

He refused to speak first. To ask her the purpose of her visit. To do so would lower his standing. She would have to give him something he asked for. No, he would make her volunteer it, or they would not speak at all.

She moved in such a way that the kimono opened slightly, exposing a leg. She pretended not to notice, but shifted so that it became more obvious. She was trying to get him to check her out. Was she trying to seduce him? He nearly laughed at the absurdity of it. She was just a child, only… He did the math, and quickly realized she was seventeen now, nearing eighteen. By Wutai law, she was a woman. He steadfastly ignored her exposed leg.

Finally, she said, "Do you remember when we first met?"

He frowned, peering into his brandy glass. Not quite the angle he'd expected from her. She seemed so naïve, so unversed in politics, but apparently she was now receiving lessons on etiquette. Good. He hated easy opponents. Dio had been an easy opponent. Too easily bullied and forced into a bad position. Would Yuffie be the same?

Reluctantly, he answered, "My father came to visit yours. It was just as the war was ending. Shinra had come to impose its terms on Wutai. It should have been the Mayor of Midgar that came, but at that point, all pretenses were over. Everyone knew who was really in charge."

Yuffie smiled. He wasn't sure if it was fake or not. "I didn't remember why you were there. I guess that makes sense. I just remember climbing a tree to show off to an arrogant boy who wouldn't do it himself, and then not being able to get back down."

"Until I came up after you and dragged you out," he added.

She nodded. "You were brave then. So scared of going up into the tree in the first place, but when it came time to do it to help someone else, you did it."

"And I suppose you need someone to help you now?" he asked, cutting her to the quick. A twist came to her mouth, as if slightly surprised, and one of her eyebrows twitched. She was learning statecraft well, but not well enough.

"In a sense, yes," she said. "But it's a lot like the time when I climbed that tree, and you came up after me. I'm going to take the initiative and do something brave first."

"Oh?"

Standing up, and smoothing out her kimono, she said, "I'm willing to commit two hundred Wutaian soldiers to your cause. To reclaiming Midgar."

He didn't let anything show. Just held her eyes, and took a sip from his brandy. "And why would you do such a thing for me?"

"Because, if I help you, you can lessen the terms on the Treaty of Wutai."

"And what terms would you like lessened?"

"All of them," she said. "Except one or two, that is. I'll let you keep a couple unimportant ones. But… Our warriors are proud. They should be able to wear proper weapons and armor outside our borders. Our people are faithful. We should be allowed to worship Da Chao and Leviathan wherever we please. Our tariffs are too much, and we diminish because of them. And the war reparations are too much, and we cannot grow."

Rufus nodded, taking each in turn. "Three hundred soldiers. Give me three hundred soldiers, your best, and I will lessen the tariffs on Wutai by one third, allow your people's worship wherever they please, and let your samurai wear swords wherever they please. Of course, all the other terms will have to stay in place. They're vital for peace between our nations."

"You're relinquishing none of the other terms?"

"None. And that's final. This conversation is of course being monitored. We can play the verbal agreement to any court of law for legality."

"And the war reparations?" she said, a hint of firmness to her voice.

He smiled. "What war reparations?"

She let out a girlish squeal, and abruptly she was on top of him, grasping him in a tight hug. He tensed for a moment, unsure of what to do, and kept his hands at his sides.

"You can hug back, y'know," she said, back to her normal, hyperactive, teenaged self.

He merely frowned at her, and she let him go, and stamped a foot imperiously. "You're such a worry wart."

He shrugged and took a full drink of his brandy. Yuffie said, "You're going to be a lousy husband, but I guess I'm stuck with you."

Amber liquid sprayed across the room, and he began to choke. He rounded on the Wutaian girl. "What did you just say?"

"Didn't read the Treaty of Wutai, did'ya?"

He narrowed his eyes. "What did I just agree to?"

"When we first met, why do you think my father insisted that I meet with you, even hang out with you? You are just a Shinra dog, after all. Not even my age. Not my type, either. But, we're stuck together."

Rufus thought about it, replaying what he knew about the treaty in his mind, and of the negotiations. His father _had_ been rather insistent that he 'go and play' with Yuffie while 'adult matters' were discussed. And he had remembered something about a 'ceremony' and a 'special day' brought up…

"Son of a bitch!" He began to pace, looking from his glass of brandy, to Yuffie, and then took a drink. "I'm glad my father's dead. I really am. That… that rat-_bastard_ engaged me to _you_ for the sake of _peace_?"

She nodded enthusiastically, as if barely able to contain her glee.

"What are _you_ so happy about? I never thought you to be the marrying type. Never mind someone who would marry someone… well, someone like me."

She gave him an impish smile, and turned to leave the room. As she opened the door, she answered, "Shinra's the number one producer of Materia around the world. Duh."

"Don't you have an arena fight to attend?" he growled.

He stood there in stunned silence after she left, wondering what in the world had just happened. No one out-maneuvered Rufus Shinra. _No one_. And most certainly not a stuck-up, Materia-grubbing Princess who would rather spelunk in ancient caves and pursue adventure than do something sensible like ... like… he suddenly couldn't think of something _sensible_ given the utter absurdity of the situation he was in. He didn't have to marry Yuffie. He _wouldn't_.

He had picked up the phone and was dialing Elena's phone number before he was even aware of it. It gave two rings before she answered.

"Elena here."

"This is the President. Get me a copy of the Treaty of Wutai. I don't care if you have to steal it from a museum, or kill someone. Just get it done."

He hung up, and then glanced at his appointment schedule. Mister Ajuk, whoever that was, would be with him momentarily. He had to compose himself. Get calm. He'd already been made a fool of once today. He had no intention of a repeat performance.

He found himself straying to the other side of the room, back to the chest with the Materia in it. A part of him was desperately curious about it. Another part of him wanted no part of it at all. It was if something was calling him from the box, but at the same time, something in his mind was screaming against it.

He wasn't sure how it happened. He had no memory of crossing the room and picking up the chest, nor of moving to the other side of it and sitting down on the sole couch, facing the door, his fingers working at the clasp. The door opened, and he looked up from the box to see a person, dressed in a white and purple robe, which revealed enough skin to be alluring, but covered enough to not be completely scandalous. At first, Rufus wasn't sure if the person was a man or a woman, but after a moment of scrutiny, decided on male, but only because he seemed to have no breasts.

"Mister Ajuk?" Rufus asked, an eyebrow raising.

"Yes. And you would be Rufus Shinra?"

Rufus nodded. Ajuk smirked contemptuously, and held up a hand. A pink light began to surround it, energy coming off in waves. Rufus looked at what he knew was an impending magical attack, and glared his defiance.

Ajuk's smirk faded as his eyes shifted to the chest. He hesitated, and said, "Where did you get that?"

The hesitation was all Rufus needed. The chest was thrown to the side, and a gun was quickly pulled from his breast holster underneath his coat. Vaulting over the couch and using it for cover, Rufus fired off several rounds at the doorway, all while shouting, "Security!"

Rude was probably fighting in the first round of the tournament now. A foolish move, that, letting his primary bodyguard be anywhere save at his side. Elena would have to suffice. But where was she?

The couch surged forward, crushing him slightly against the wall as it was hit with a blast of pink light. The impact drove the breath from his lungs, but not so much to completely disorient him. Pushing the piece of furniture away from him, Rufus risked a glance up to survey the room. Ajuk was standing in the doorway, not covered by anything, but his left arm bled slightly. The man was clearly a novice to combat, but everything about him spoke as if he should know what he was about.

The second thing Rufus noticed was the state of his couch. The leather was torn, a smoking ruin, and the guts of the furniture were strewn about. Drawing another pistol, Rufus stood up, firing both at the same time, while he shouted, "That couch cost me eight thousand gil!"

One of the shots blew a small chunk out of the man's leg, another clipped him in the side of the head. Ajuk stumbled back, firing pink energy blindly, and causing the whole room to jolt with each impact.

Ajuk fell backwards, behind the door frame and out of sight. Rufus knew he should wait for security. He knew he should wait for Elena to show up. But something inside of him burned for retribution. The _audacity_ of someone to attack him in his own office. The sheer _gall. _

He strode forward with a purpose, both pistols leveled, and quickly stepped through the doorway, weapons trained on the spot that he knew Ajuk should occupy.

But there was no one there.

Rufus surveyed the room. Behind her desk, the secretary was dead. A single burst of magical energy to the head. There was no exit that Rufus could not have seen from his office. So where had Ajuk gone?

The elevator door opened, and Elena strode out, pistol drawn. "Sir! Are you okay?"

"Where were you?" Rufus grated. "You were supposed to be outside my office at all times."

"I… I…" she stammered. Reaching behind her back, she pulled a folder from her belt. Likely, she'd stashed it there when she'd drawn her weapon. "I got a copy of the Treaty of Wutai for you."

"Next time, send a lackey to get it. That's what they're here for." He holstered his weapons, and snatched the folder from her contemptuously. Gesturing to the room around him, he said, "Get this cleaned up. And have security look for Ajuk. He'll be on the security cameras."

Rufus walked back into his office, and slammed the door behind him. He tossed the treaty onto his desk. He would look at it later. For now, his attention was on the chest that now lay on the ground.

Rufus Shinra was not a superstitious man. He lived in the rational world. Everything had an explanation, and nothing lived in a land of mystics. But despite that all, he listened to his gut feeling, placed the chest back on the table where it had been before, and then left it alone.

Chapter Nineteen

First Rounds

Shadow eyed the steel archway he had been told to walk through prior to going into the arena. It was another machine, one he wasn't sure of. From the looks of it, it utilized magic in some way, as his opponent, the bald man named Rude, had walked through it and was surrounded with a green light. Technology seemed to be everywhere in this world, and all of it seemed to be some form of abuse. He was surprised this entire world wasn't populated by obese slobs incapable of the simplest of things. Like walking unaided. Or feeding oneself. Or breathing.

Still, he walked through it without hesitation. He wasn't scared of technology and change like Cyan was. Shadow was one to adapt, someone capable of accepting something different and moving on. Despite that, he nearly drew two of his daggers and jammed it into either panel alongside the archway as he walked through it and claxons sounded.

"What's wrong?" he asked, a green light from the archway settling over him even as more alarms rang.

"Your weapons," a guard said, who stood on one side of the arch. "The scanner's detected poison. That's against tournament rules. We're going to have to confiscate them."

The assassin rolled his eyes. What kind of tournament was this? Where he came from, if one wanted to use the most lethal of poisons on their weapons, so long as they could afford it, they were welcome to. Reluctantly, he handed over his two daggers. The guard gestured for him to walk through the archway again. Even as he did, the claxons sounded again. He pulled out a handful of shuriken, twenty in total, and handed them to the guard. Once more he was forced to walk through the archway, and again the alarm rang. He pulled a poniard from his boot, and tossed it negligently to the underpaid man. Finally, he was able to walk through the arch without setting off an alarm. But only because he didn't have any weapons left to his name.

Once inside the arena, he sized up his opponent. The man was large, every inch of him muscle. There was also a cool air about him, as if he was a trained killer. But that made sense, considering that the word 'Turk' in this world seemed to translate into 'assassin.'

Rude didn't seem to have any weapons on him. Which meant that he was a hand-to-hand fighter. Lovely. For a moment, Shadow thought he wouldn't be too badly handicapped for the fight. He could fight superbly with his hands and feet, but he didn't do it full time. His opponent, from the looks of it, did.

Putting himself in a basic fighting stance, one that would let him utilize his opponent's strength against him, Shadow wondered how Vincent was doing.

* * *

Vincent readied Cerberus in its holster, making sure it was ready for a quick draw. He wasn't entirely sure what to make of Shadow. Of any of his companions, for that matter. The details were off, but there was a distinct feeling that Kain had told the truth. Coupled with Vincent's own ability to see the portals, the Turk was a little more than inclined to believe them. But despite that all, Vincent was only certain of one thing about Shadow and his companions; they were dangerous. Every single one of them.

And now, Vincent was about to enter into an area battle with someone Shadow had warned him to be careful against. Meaning, his opponent was likely to be challenging. Vincent detested fighting. Not because he couldn't – he was in fact a very accomplished gun fighter, good enough that he'd never found an equal in his art of fighting – or because he was scared. No, Vincent Valentine had other reasons entirely for abhorring violence.

_Let us out._

It was a distant call, always there. Four voices, all overlapping each other. His own private demons, each a representation of his own life. Always trying to claw to the surface, they were relentless, merciless, and would cause an unknown amount of destruction if ever truly let loose.

Vincent Valentine detested fighting because every time he did, there was always a chance that one of them would get out.

Locke Cole finally entered the arena, a cocky swagger to him as he waved to the crowds. They'd been getting impatient for his arrival, and some of viewers had wandered off to watch other fights. There was a steady hum of cheers erupting from the direction of arena number three, the ring that Shadow and Rude were fighting in. Apparently, they were putting up quite the show.

His opponent drew a knife from its sheathe, and made a flourish, spinning the blade about in his hand, threw it up into the air, spun around, and caught it with his other hand behind his back. Vincent took note of it all. Until the referee called a start to the fight, Vincent couldn't draw his pistol and fill the man with holes while he pranced for the audience.

Of course, since the referee was a woman, and seeming to enjoy Locke's showing off, it appeared that Vincent had a while to wait before the fight started.

* * *

The more Rude fought Shadow, the more he began to think that perhaps it wasn't a smart idea to rig the matches so that this was his first opponent. The Turk had expected to win the tournament. Make it to the finals at the very least. Now that was in serious doubt because he had wanted to fight Shadow while he was fresh, and unhindered from previous battles. 

The ninja was now delivering a swift combination of punches and kicks, meant to throw Rude off balance and land three solid punches at the end, all of which would be unblockable because the only defense to the attack would leave him wide open in the end. Rude followed through on the predictable course, taking the two hits to the gut stoically, and the open-palmed punch at the end of it with a straight face, just as he'd taken numerous blows before it.

His sunglasses went flying, skipping end over end to the ground. Rude wasted no time, knowing that Shadow was now open, and grabbed the man's arm with one hand, and a leg with the other. Lifting with barely a fraction of his strength, the Turk raised the skinny assassin over his head and threw him, launching him across the arena and into a wall.

The crowd cheered.

Rude paid no heed, walking forward with deadly intent. Already Shadow was getting up, albeit slowly. The hit had knocked the wind from him. The fight would be over soon enough.

Cracking his knuckles, he made his walk as menacing as possible. Half of every fight was mental, the realm of the mind beyond the physical. Rude hade to make himself more intimidating than Shadow. And intimidating, he was good at.

The assassin gained his feet once more, and made as if about to try a forward rush. Rude summoned up a torrent of Materia energy from the bangle he wore, concentrating a combination of Fire, Lightning and Earth spells, and punched down at the ground. Grand Spark ignited, a horrid red burst of energy erupting from the ground in a straight line, heading for Shadow. The man had no time to react, barely dodging it, the wake of the energy sending him flying into the wall once more.

Rude advanced once more, confident in his victory now.

Shadow was still trying to steady himself, clearly disoriented. Rude lunged, grappling with the man and throttling him hard with one hand, while punching him in the face several times with the other. The man went limp, barely any strength left in him, one hand feebly prying at Rude's grasp around his neck.

The Turk slammed his opponent into the wall, and the fight seemed to go out of him. He looked to the referee to call the fight, opening his mouth to ask if the fight was over. And even as he did, regretted it. Shadow's left hand came up, and slammed into Rude's mouth. The Turk felt something small go into the small entrance, and began to choke as what must have been a smoke bomb, one that ninjas frequently used to escape, went off. He spat it out, but still couldn't help but choke from the gas he'd inhaled.

Shadow afforded him no luxury of time to recover. The assassin, weak as he was, proved to still be capable of launching an all out assault, kicking and punching the larger man, delivering blows primary to the gut, sending him into even more gasping for breath.

Rude hit the ground, in pain, and realized he had lost before the final blow, a solid uppercut, took him in the jaw.

* * *

Shadow limped out of the arena to the sound of cheering. Even in the arenas of his own world he was unused to hearing such a sound. People feared Shadow, and even when they bet on him in a fight, always kept their praise silent in fear of attracting his attention. 

The assassin stepped out of the arena, and looked about. Several chambers were marked as fighting rooms, where people could pick and choose which match they wanted to watch. Gold Saucer apparently didn't have the time to run each fight one at a time, and had to opt for such a course. Still, Shadow searched out the signs above each arena entrance, and found the one marked, 'Valentine versus Cole' with a neon sign. Below it said 'Awaiting To Commence.'

Shadow frowned. He was surprised Vincent's match hadn't started yet, but didn't particularly care either way. No matter who won, it suited him. If Locke claimed victory, the assassin was sure he could convince his old comrade to assist him in winning the tournament.

A hand tapped him on the shoulder, and Shadow turned around, surprised someone had come up behind him unnoticed. The young girl, Yuffie, stood there, an impish grin on her face.

"Hi, Mister Shadow," she said.

She was wearing a kimono, but it looked ruffled, as if she had just…. Had she just participated in her match wearing _that_? And, since she wasn't beaten senseless, had she won? That didn't bode well. It meant she was good. Probably very good.

"Just Shadow," he responded, looking about for her bodyguards. They were dispersed about the room, and appeared not to be paying attention, but they were. So much for grabbing the Full Cure off her.

"Looks like I'm fighting you in the next round," she said, pointing to the match up board.

He glanced at it, and nodded. Something told him he'd enjoy beating the snot out of her. With luck, she'd have the Full Cure Materia on her during the fight, and he could take it from her then.

The sign above Vincent's arena door flickered, and changed from 'Awaiting To Commence' to 'In Progress.' A gunshot sounded, echoed by the roaring sound of applause. Two more gunshots followed, then silence. The sign flickered again, changing to 'Concluded.' The doors opened, and Vincent strode from the arena, holstering his weapon.

"You were right," Vincent said. "He was good. He actually dodged the first two shots."

Author's Note:

Remember, the writers like reviews. Seriously. I know there's more than two people reading this. Thank you to Macky and Alpha2Omega for responding to the call last time. You guys rock.


	20. The Interrogation

Chapter Twenty

The Interrogation

"Remind me again why we're doing this?" asked Irvine plaintively.

Squall looked over his shoulder and scowled. He lay in a ditch next to Red as they observed their prey across the dirt road, about a mile and a half from the centre of the city.

"We're going to get Quistis back," replied Squall, as patiently as he could manage.

"Chill, man, I'm just a little slow uptake today."

"Today?" Squall muttered, earning an amused sidelong glance from the massive animal lying by his side. A day ago he probably would have tried to attack Red, thinking him a monster. Key word: tried, and it just goes to show what a day can hold, he thought to himself.

"We could've just got her back _before_ they took her to an impenetrable fortress of doom."

"Not really. It would've been difficult considering they were in a vehicle and we were on foot."

"Or paw," said Irvine, obviously trying to be politically correct. Red mirrored Squall's expression as he looked back at the sniper, and Irvine sensibly didn't press the subject any further.

"There," pointed Squall. Red followed his finger to gaze at an approaching jeep. It engaged in a wide sweeping turn and sailed into the small supply depot the odd trio lay across the road from.

"Uhm, I hate to find a gap in your plan, but considering the fact we came here to steal something big and indestructible, there isn't anything here for us to steal."

Squall narrowed his eyes. He hated it when Irvine ripped open obvious flaws in his plans. A leader was supposed to find brilliant ways through these setbacks and stun their team with their genius, and Irvine was just taking that magic away from him.

"I'm sure something will come up," said Red. "It usually does."

"Or down," said Squall pointing into the sky.

"And then back up again," added Irvine, looking at the approaching object. "Sweet!"

* * *

Cloud dragged Quistis into the darkened room and unceremoniously dumped her into the solitary chair in the room. Then he chained each of her arms to the chair, and then wrapped another around her chest. He padlocked each of the chains shut, and then used another to lock the extra length at the end of the chains together. He wasn't going to take any chances with this one. 

Domino chuckled evilly behind Cloud, taking an almost childlike delight in watching the helpless woman. His dutiful assistant, Hart, slightly raised an eyebrow but almost immediately looked away. He didn't want to risk upsetting the Mayor.

Strange how he still thought of Domino as the Mayor, while that title meant next to nothing now. He was something much worse now. Back when Shinra ruled the city, he was at best an ambitious, barely competent minor official. Even President Shinra was not as bad as the Mayor was now, because at least he had some laws he had to obey, and except for his quest for the Promised Land, he had enough money that he could buy anything he desired. While he was a cruel and ruthless man, he was also pampered, and that tends to take the edge off a person. Not Domino. The squalor the world had descended into allowed no luxury, and this hardened its inhabitants, making them desperate. Domino was cruel and ruthless like President Shinra had been, but he was also desperate and ruined. He was also less intelligent than his predecessor, and this made him doubly dangerous – he would use his power blindly and without any thought to the consequences. Had Hart not been so loyal as he was, he would have killed Domino long ago. Although, if he was being honest with himself, he was also afraid of his boss. Domino had talked him into helping procure power, and Hart had readily accepted; anything to get ahead in the world. They had disposed of the previous "Boss" and seized power, only Hart found that power was not nearly as satisfying as he'd anticipated – his stomach still growled, his illnesses still went untreated, and his roof still leaked. The ability to order some more people around was a nice bonus, and since they had extensively renovated Shinra Headquarters his leaking roof was no longer a problem, but Hart felt that this authority wasn't really worth the hassle.

Domino turned to his towering bodyguard Cloud. "Get her to tell me about the creature she summoned at the bar. Whatever it takes."

The ex-SOLDIER nodded and dutifully turned to the tray of implements arrayed before him; knives, scalpels, chemicals, and a defibrillator.

At Domino's nod toward the exit, Hart filed in behind him. Referring to Cloud as an ex-SOLDIER, as he understood it, wasn't technically true. While he had been subjected to a similar treatment as SOLDIERs, it wasn't exactly the same. Cloud was an ex-…well, he wasn't exactly sure. Freedom fighter? Puppet? Freak? Hart decided the last definition probably summed him up the best. He didn't have anything in particular against the man, but he was built from so many sources it was impossible to think of him as otherwise. It was even feasible that Cloud's past was a carefully constructed lie; that the profile Shinra had amassed on him had been falsified in order to protect the company's true involvement with Strife.

Hart shook his head, rising from the quagmire that was the blonde man standing in the interrogation room. Domino had never shared how he had managed to subdue and enslave the legendary Cloud Strife; however, whatever he had done had obviously worked to an astonishing degree. The former champion of the Planet was now an errand boy for a petty warlord, ruling over what was left of a crumbling city. Midgar was once a city of merely degenerate politics; more recently, the structure of the city itself had begun to noticeably erode. Without Shinra cleanup crews to patch the holes the two-tiered structure would inevitably collapse in on itself, and then the last monument to man's mastery of nature would be nothing more than a joke for animals to gaze and scoff at.

Hart would much prefer to pick up his pay at the end of the month, eat, drink, be merry, and spend his working days trying to line his pockets with a couple of extra gil.

Domino stopped in the hallway, and Hart followed suit. His master turned to regard him.

"I want you to go back and keep an eye on Strife. He was acting strangely back at the bar."

Hart didn't comment on the fact that, given the proper motivation, Cloud could easily tear him in half, and instead nodded at his instruction.

"I want whatever summoning materia her group has. Somehow they summoned Leviathan when it's meant to be back in Wutai, and I want to know how."

"Could it be the Wutaians?" The inhabitants of the far west had been growing in confidence since the fall of Shinra, and being that they were the only remaining power of any consequence left in the world it was conceivable that they were moving to invade one of the bigger continents.

Domino shook his head. "Probably not. It won't hurt to find out though." Hart nodded again and turned to walk away, however Domino stopped him.

"Whatever means necessary, Hart. Find out what she and her friends are up to."

Hart met his leader's eyes and found he couldn't hold the gaze for more than a few seconds. For a third time he indicated compliance and then walked away.

* * *

"Squall, what are we gonna do?" Irvine had by no means stopped his incessant stream of inane questions, but yet Squall found he was somehow surprised by this turn of events. Nobody, not even Zell, out of everyone he had ever met, displayed such a complete lack of common sense and intelligence than Irvine. He appeared completely incapable of piecing things together for himself, and pestered Squall at every given opportunity for clarification of even the simplest things. And, Squall thought, the worst thing about it was that he secretly harboured suspicions that Irvine was readily capable of assessing situations and either did it to annoy him, or had become lazily dependant upon the more senior SeeD to explain things he couldn't be bothered to figure out for himself. He couldn't decide which possibility annoyed him more. 

He sighed patiently. "I'll keep it simple for you. We," He pointed to himself, Irvine, and then Red. "Are going," He made a walking motion with his forefingers. "To take," He outstretched his palm and then brought it to his chest in a fist. "That." At this, he pointed across the field to where a formidable looking combat helicopter sat being refuelled by a small group of engineers. "Are you with me so far?"

"There's no need to be condescending," retorted Irvine. Squall decided to rein in his sarcasm from then, his point obviously made.

"Then we're going to fly it to the Shinra building, or at least near it, drop me and Red off, we're going to go in, cut the power, find Quistis, bring her back, and if at any point we alert the guards, you're going to blow the crap out of everything – that _isn't_ me and Red – to give us cover. Then we're going to come to you, get back into the chopper, and you're going to fly us away."

Irvine sat digesting the information, trying to pick holes in the plan. While Squall was immensely irritated by the sniper's mannerisms sometimes, he was as close to a brother as he would ever have, and deep down knew that he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed. Squall came up with the plan, and Irvine told him in no uncertain terms what was wrong with it. He didn't offer up an alternative most of the time, but Squall could recognise that he would probably be dead by now if Irvine hadn't pointed out the flaws in his plans. It's not that Irvine was completely stupid, but Squall possessed a more inventive mind. Irvine's more hands-on approach to thinking often led Squall to consider things he wouldn't have ordinarily, and so they made a pretty good team.

The only exception to this rule was when Squall only had what was laid out in front of him. Then, like now, there were no alternatives, just one course of action to take. However Irvine unfailingly didn't recognise this and still pointed out the flaws that Squall would rather try to ignore and luck out on. Which is what often led to bickering and the occasional physical fight.

However, Irvine nodded and said nothing after several moments of contemplation. Squall blinked twice in surprise, and then rolled back onto his stomach, slowly, as if sudden movement might startle Irvine into talkative action. None was forthcoming, and Squall returned to the surveillance of the airfield.

* * *

Hart re-entered the interrogation room to find that Cloud had injected the prisoner with something to make her come around, as she sat stirring, confined in the chair. 

He crossed the room and leaned against the wall in a position where it would be uncomfortable for her to twist around and make eye contact with him. Coupled with the fact that he was in the shadows, he hoped he would prove somewhat intimidating to the female.

The woman opened her eyes slowly and took in her surroundings. Hart saw an astonishing intelligence in those eyes, and began to revise his options for her successful interrogation. Quickly, every exit had been mapped and her chains tested. He and Cloud were assessed; he imagined, should she prove able to escape, that she would make for him as the weaker of her two captors and hope to hold him hostage in an attempt to dissuade Cloud from attacking her. He would be surprised that in reality, her plan for such a contingency would be to make a lightning strike with her foot, driving it into Cloud's knee.

She levelled her gaze at Hart, and despite the awkward angle she was sitting at made no sign of discomfort. It was at this point Hart began to suspect he had incorrectly evaluated this woman.

A long silence stretched between them, Cloud dutifully standing by the array of sharp, pointy instruments, waiting for orders. Finally Hart formally began the interrogation. He flew across the divide and punched the woman squarely in the jaw.

Her head snapped around, and blood started to flow from her swelling bottom lip. She spat the excess red fluid from her filling mouth, not at Hart but onto the floor. Then she regarded him unflinchingly.

Hart turned away to mask his confusion, and asked the first question. "What's your name?"

No response.

He repeated the question, to the same reply. His typical method of interrogating, when he had to do it, was to ask a question twice before inflicting pain, but for some reason he made it three this time.

The woman's blood splattered onto the floor, her mouth filled with fluid from her first punishment. Hart began to stalk away when she spoke her first words.

"It's apparent that you live in a very hostile environment. You didn't even consider asking nicely."

"Your name?"

"Maybe if you say please."

Another blow, this time to her stomach. She gasped for air, and shook her head. Hart leaned close to her ear.

"_Please._"

"Isn't that better? My name is Quistis, what about you?"

"I'll be the one asking questions, Quistis."

"Of course."

"My employer has a vested interest in you, Quistis. I need for you to tell me how you summoned Leviathan."

"And I need a vacation. Sometimes we don't get what we want."

Hart refrained from physical abuse this time, recognising the prisoner wasn't going to be much more intimidated through that approach. He decided to attack her fear less directly.

"Have you met Cloud?" he asked, and Quistis shook her head. "He's quite the servant. He will obediently follow any order given to him to the letter."

"Cloud, break this man's kneecaps," said Quistis. Cloud remained motionless. Hart smirked at her.

"I admire your zest, however he's been programmed with a code word that will make him obey the person who speaks it. He will remain inert until that word is spoken."

"Shame."

"For you."

"And you when I learn the word."

"Let's stop this squabbling, shall we? I can sense you trying to steer the conversation away from the issue at hand here. Namely, how you or your accomplices summoned Leviathan."

"Go to hell."

The movement didn't even register itself upon Quistis until the blinding pain exploded into her face. Cloud had moved so quickly that even her finely attuned senses hadn't seen it coming. Blood streamed freely from the wound on her bottom lip.

Hart glanced at the towering blonde man. "It looks like you found another programmed word. I'll be sure not to mention it in his presence again."

Quistis glowered at her tormentor. Hart felt a surge of triumph as she shifted her glance sideways to reassess Cloud, even though her uneasiness wasn't directed towards him. A secondary body would do. He was in control of Cloud, after all.

"I'll repeat the question. How did you summon Leviathan?"

"Aren't you concerned about what damage you'll do to my pretty face? All of the menin this worldseem to be chauvinist pigs, I'd hate for you to break the trend."

Hart felt himself begin to lose his patience. "Leviathan?"

Quistis affected the best bewildered expression she could manage under the circumstances. "What's that?"

Hart snapped his fingers. Cloud surged forward, and Quistis flinched involuntarily. No pain was immediately forthcoming however. Cloud began to untie Quistis' bonds.

Two things happened, both the same yet different to the person it occurred to. Both Hart and Quistis learned that whomsoever controlled Cloud did control him, but could not predict exactly how he would execute a command. The way Hart widened his eyes when Cloud slipped Quistis' right arm from the chain pinning it to the arm of the chair told Quistis this, and the way Cloud twisted that arm backwards so her hand touched the back of her head informed Hart of the same fact.

Pain exploded into Quistis' brain. She was trained to resist most forms of torture but Cloud unnerved her completely. It was clear that Hart didn't control him absolutely, and it was equally clear that Cloud was ominously proficient in the art of torture.

Desperately she searched her brain for some way to stop the pain. Her training (which had taken place in the comfortable confines of the Garden) told her that everyone surrendered; that to resist torture was impossible, that everyone had a breaking point and that there was no shame in this. It was to be expected. The aim of the game, as they had called it, trying to make the process of ultimate pain and humiliation more approachable to the group of easily frightened SeeD recruits, was to delay submission for as long as possible. Do anything to make it go into your head. For some, the best way of doing this was to allocate pieces of information to amounts of time. One item per hour. A name. A location. Something the enemy wanted. Others preferred to try and stay silent for as long as possible. Twenty minutes, forty minutes.

Quistis, however, tried to change the rulebook. It was what made her advance so quickly inside the Garden. Doubtlessly the enemy interrogator was intelligent, but Quistis was more so. She aimed to give misinformation. Tease the interrogator. To make it seem like she had given up her one item of information for the first hour and to ridicule when it was discovered to be a falsification.

The major problem for Quistis, however, was in that she had never been in a position of actually being tortured. She had done well on paper; however this was the real deal. It was time to put her theory into practice.

"Materia!" she gasped. Cloud eased some of the pressure on her arm, but not completely, and Hart leaned in eagerly.

"How? How did you get hold of the Leviathan materia?"

There was a moment of silence, and then Quistis cried out again when Cloud reapplied the pressure. It felt as if her arm was about to snap off; her shoulder was on fire.

She hesitated a moment too long. "I think you're lying to me," said Hart, turning away. Cloud released her arm and bound it to the chair at his signal.

She panted for breath; her right arm feeling like it had been replaced with jelly. She had to think quickly.

"Yes, I'm lying." There. Hart wasn't sure now, she had acted reasonably suspiciously. Besides, summoning required materia in this world, didn't it? What other way was there?

Hart seemed less sure of himself. He drew away from Quistis and nodded to Cloud. The blonde surged forward.

Quistis was helpless to stop the motion of her chair as Cloud kicked it, she crashed to the floor unceremoniously, the chains clattering as she made contact.

"Maybe I need to leave you two alone for a while," suggested Hart. He turned and opened the door, closing it again just as Cloud's hands folded around Quistis.

* * *

Squall pushed around the corner of the building he was leaning against, borrowed weapon pointed at an unsuspecting guard. 

"Make a sound," he said. The guard raised his hands slowly into the air, and then crumpled to the ground as Irvine appeared behind him and smashed the butt of his rifle into the base of the man's neck. Squall nodded and they dragged the man to where Squall had been hiding, as to not alert his colleagues.

"I make three more," said Irvine. Squall nodded his assent. They made their way through the depot, passing multiple downed guards, to the area closest to where the helicopter sat, now surely nearly refuelled completely. The remaining three guards went down easily and without any significant struggle – one was unconscious before he even realised he was under attack, one succumbed to Irvine's missile of a brick, and the third was, perhaps regrettably, shot by Squall through the heart just before he opened fire on the exposed Irvine. Squall had killed before today, however, and as he was climbing into a heavily armed helicopter on his way to a well-fortified installation to rescue one of his own, he had to act as if war had been declared. Quistis was a prisoner of war, and the guard had been a casualty of war. He had to maintain that divide in his head.

As he clambered into the pilot's seat, Irvine started pointing excitedly at the horizon. Concerned, he leaned back out and managed to discern "Another one" from the stream of words coming from the sniper's mouth. He scanned the horizon, and sure enough there was a dot that could only be another helicopter heading towards them. He fell into the seat and began flipping controls, knowing that the vehicle he sat in must operate under similar rules of physics, their two worlds not being so dissimilar as to have different gravity and so surely not wind patterns, but not knowing for the life of him where exactly to look on the control board. Helicopters were being rendered obsolete in his dimension; in point of fact Squall had undertaken only basic training in a similar vehicle back when he was a cadet and now, under the pressure of imminent attack, he tried to focus his thoughts onto those vague memories, hopefully in time to avoid obliteration.

* * *

Quistis had felt better. She could be honest enough with herself that she wasn't doing as well as she'd envisioned considering the amount of pressure she'd been put under. The theory is always different from the reality, and she was receiving a pointed lesson in that the hard way. 

The worst thing about it wasn't that he didn't emote while he was abusing her, but that he didn't speak. Not a sound came from Cloud while he beat her; no emotion flickered across his face.

She felt blood running thickly from several wounds around her body. She dreaded the thought of when Cloud moved on to using equipment; she had only received punishment from his fists thus far. She resolved not to speak until he did so.

He picked up a small, metal object from the table standing near to the table. He must be telepathic, she thought wryly. _I hate you. I wish you would drop dead. _Cloud didn't react to her abusive thoughts. _I'm picturing you in your underwear._

He made eye contact with her. Shocked, she wondered idly if her last comment had provoked the reaction; if he really _was_ psychic, but dismissed the thought quickly. The smallest hint of a smile played across his lips.

"I can see…" he murmured, the sound of his voice barely reaching Quistis' ears. " All of it."

She didn't know how to respond to this event, so she remained quiet and still, their roles suddenly reversed.

"Revenge…sweet. I've been looking forward to this."

He took a faltering step forward, his balance suddenly off. He frowned slightly.

"There's a traitor, in your midst." He smiled then, a chilling sight. "One of your number has already betrayed you."

Quistis felt her heart racing faster. Why was Cloud suddenly speaking? What was this talk of traitors? Had Reno sold them out to Domino to gain favour and employment?

Cloud lurched forward, then collapsed to his knees in front of Quistis. "Such…a long…time." He lifted the scalpel he held and with an almost childlike delight, pierced her skin. He drew a line of fire along her flesh, and she screamed as the metal dug deep.

* * *

Squall heaved a sigh of relief as the rotors above his head started to spin. He waved to Red and the big creature jumped into the back of the helicopter, while Irvine clambered in from the other side. The dirt around the chopper started to lift, and as Squall found the panel to activate the weaponry on the vehicle, the rotors reached optimum speed and began to churn up tornados of dust. He lifted the control mechanism and the legs beneath him lifted off the ground; they were airborne. 

His first objective was the enemy chopper. As soon as they had cleared the roofs of the depot, he swung the sticks until the nose pointed towards the ever-enlarging speck on the horizon. Pitching them forward, they sped towards their aggressor.

"Squall!" shouted Irvine, who was suddenly beside him pointing excitedly at one of the display panels. Almost annoyed, he checked first to see that first, Irvine was pointing to a radar screen, and second that there was another dot than the one they were heading towards.

"There's another one!" he shouted unnecessarily. Squall gritted his teeth and jerked his thumb to where the large machine gun jutted from the side of the chopper. Irvine took the hint and sat behind it.

An alarm started beeping next to Squall's ear. He almost turned to look at it when the enemy chopper, which had become rapidly become more visible, fired a stream of smoke from beneath it. Squall jerked the control sticks hard, their helicopter decreasing its altitude rapidly as the missile flew straight through the air they had just been occupying. He shouted to Irvine, and increased their height. As they drew level with the enemy chopper, Irvine squeezed the trigger on the big gun and a hail of bullets flew from it. They impacted neatly along the side of the enemy vehicle, holes shredding through the metal, liquid and gas starting to pour from within. The rotors started to slow down, and slowly but with alarming acceleration the chopper sank like a stone and exploded onto the barren ground beneath them. Squall suddenly felt less confident about the metal shell that encased him, and jumped when the same alarm went off close to his head. The other chopper!

He spun their vehicle around and down, hoping the missile would miss rather than knowing, while Irvine took up his rifle and threw himself across past Red to the other door. Amazingly, within three seconds he had aimed and fired from a moving target at a moving target, and scored a direct hit. The pilot of the second enemy chopper had no chance whatsoever against such expert marksmanship, and the vehicle he controlled spun wildly out of control before suffering the fate of its companion.

Grimly, Squall nodded at Irvine in approval and upon Red's direction, pointed and accelerated their chopper towards the old headquarters of Shinra, Inc.

* * *

Hart sat listening to his recorded interrogation of the female, not feeling the typical embarrassment most people feel when listening to their own voice. It came from being part of many meetings, press conferences and general promotional material on behalf of the Shinra Corporation. He massaged the bridge of his nose, hoping it would make the impending headache go away. Domino would want an update soon, and he had nothing to give him. He hoped Cloud would be able to wrest some kind of information from her before it was too late. 

Slowly his eyes opened and he almost idly rewound the tape he was listening to, so unconscious was the action he barely noticed he had done it. He listened to the exchange once more, and his finger found the rewind button once again, the action now becoming conscious. He concentrated more on what was being said.

"_It looks like you found another programmed word. I'll be sure not to mention it in his presence again…I'll repeat the question. How did you summon Leviathan?"_

"_Aren't you concerned about what damage you'll do to my pretty face? All of the menin this worldseem to be chauvinist pigs, I'd hate for you to break the trend."_

"_Leviathan?"_

"_What's that?"_

He pressed the button again, knowing his subconscious had recognised something that he had missed. Something so base it was only worthy of a similar attention.

"_- How did you summon Leviathan?"_

"_Aren't you concerned about what damage you'll do to my pretty face? All of the menin this worldseem to be chauvinist pigs, I'd hate for you to break the trend."_

"_Leviathan?"_

Rewind.

"_Aren't you concerned about what damage you'll do to my pretty face? All of the menin this worldseem to be chauvinist pigs, I'd hate for you to break the trend."_

"_All of the menin this worldseem to be chauvinist pigs, I'd hate for you to break the trend."_

"All of the men in this world…" he muttered as the tape resumed its playback unmolested. Not _the_ world. _This _world. Of course. It was so ludicrous he could barely accept the idea himself, however he instinctively knew that it was the answer to every piece of the puzzle. The rumours of people going missing, the shady business deals involving materia the former Boss had implemented, how they had summoned that creature without any materia, the strange clothes she wore, the accent he couldn't identify, the stories of people appearing out of thin air in the Slums.The answer had been staring him in the face all along, yet he was bound by the conventions of sanity this world had imposed upon him. He jumped to his feet excitedly and roused one of the lackeys that could always be trusted to be found hanging around.

"Get up to storage. I need the technicians to make every kind of truth serum they can physically produce." The lackey bounded away to fulfil his orders, and Hart grinned to himself. No more games. Quistis was going to tell him everything.

* * *

The Shinra building wasn't completely abandoned; just the upper floors. Below there still existed some semblance of the ordered life of Shinra employees, in that even a gang of thugs needed some kind of organisation. Organisation required paperwork, and paperwork required corporate drones. Except now, there was no corporation. Steve used to work in Accounting. Now he filed the various bits of paperwork the crime syndicate produced. He was a slave to the job, even when the building had been rocked by Weapon's attacks, even when Shinra itself ceased to exist, Steve showed up for work. People like him, dim witted and devoid of ambition, allowed the syndicate to continue functioning as efficiently as it did. 

Steve, of course, was blissfully unaware of this. He cheerfully made his rounds, collecting scraps of paper to put into his cart, gathering gossip as he went. The place might now be full of dangerous thugs, but even they had social lives. Steve did not, and so needed to fill that particular void with details of other people's.

He happened to be down on the ground floor when the security alarm wailed. For some reason the thing kept working, and no-one had thought to remove it from the foyer. Occasionally it was useful when an uninvited guest decided to storm the entrance – a time such as this. Guards swarmed over the individual and he wryly sank to the ground, allowing the lesser men to disarm him. Steve drank all of this in, eager to relay the story to others already.

The man stood and brushed his jacket as the mailman approached him, grinning from ear to ear. The man was one of his favourite visitors, although he didn't appear in the old Shinra building much. He could always be counted on to provide a dirty story or exciting adventure which he could then relate to his audience. He could even switch some of the names, add a bit of artistic license.

"Reno," said Steve, clapping the redhead on the shoulder. "Good to see you."

The Turk smiled tolerably; there were bound to be more interesting people he could be talking to. He was proved wrong, however.

Knowing his tendency to gossip excessively, Reno stayed with the otherwise intolerable Steve, the mailman. He plastered a fake grin on his face.

"Steve, how've you been?"

"Good, good, I'll bet not as good as you though!"

Reno was now, normally, expected to entertain the mailman with a tale of his grand exploits; how he had seduced the secretary, how he had stayed awake for seventy two hours to win a poker game. The pathetic thing was that three quarters of the time he was making the stories up, yet the guy still lapped them up. This time was different however.

"So tell me, what's going on around here?"

"Oh yeah, you aren't really working here much anymore are you?"

Reno gritted his teeth and forced himself to endure it just a little bit longer.

Steve continued gushing. "Bill upstairs has been seeing Eleanor behind Sarah's back - "

Reno held his hands up, stopping him in mid sentence. "Woah, woah, I was thinking a bit more recent. Like, say, the past couple of hours?"

"Ohhh, well, they brought this weird woman in. They've got her upstairs. I think they're questioning her."

Reno grew thoughtful, and then clapped Steve on the shoulder, just a little too hard to be comfortable. "Thanks, Steve. I owe you."

The mailman beamed and Reno escaped his clutches. They usually tortured people on the forty fifth floor these days, the upper floors being mostly desolate. He strode to the elevator, which mercifully still had power, and tapped the appropriate button. However the next hour played out, he resolved that he wouldn't leave the building without saving the day, getting the girl, and kicking some serious ass.

He smiled as the elevator doors slid shut, sealing his fate.

* * *

Author's Note: 

Sorry about the delays. Tyramir's network card blew up. He got a replacement. Then his motherboard fried. While trying to fix that, his CPU died as well. Since he's kind of broke, things are going to slow down a bit. Sorry about this. Bad luck, is all.

Remember to review. Both writers appreciate it. Those of you that have (Macky, Alpha2Omega, Wolven Falls and LadyKnightSephiroth) are totally cool for putting up with us through our delays (and change of writing styles every other chapter, with two main stories going on simultaneously). Reviews are great, and we both love getting them. Also, feel free to ask questions. We may just answer them.


	21. Ninjas!

Kain held the lance up once more to ascertain the direction the trail headed, and grimly moved forward. From his view from the mountaintop, Kain could see a launch pad for some sort of small airship. His spear echoed with a burning anger, telling him that Sephiroth had been there. And, from the way the lance seemed to pull him eastward, Sephiroth had also apparently stolen some sort of craft and taken it east, over the ocean. The moonlight's reflection on the ocean seemed to mock him, teasing him that he had missed his prey.

He wanted to kick something. Just as it seemed that he'd almost caught up with Sephiroth, this had happened. Now the man was who knew how many miles ahead of him, and gaining more distance by the second.

Almost in abject spite, he drove the tip of his lance into the ground, letting out a howl of frustration. What was he doing here? He was no hero. He didn't even trust Golbez, and that was only natural. The man was Cecil's dark half, the opposite of what was Kain's best friend. Worse, he was no leader either. He had no right to be taking men into battle, much less against this Sephiroth. Already one of his men was down, dying. Maybe already dead. Who knew? Amarant was in critical condition, suffering from a wound the likes of which Kain had never seen before.

Did other 'heroes' feel the kind of frustration Kain was feeling? It always seemed as if Cecil never doubted himself, never questioned his own decisions. He picked the right course and stuck with it. He was calm and righteous, and nearly incapable of error. Oh, how Kain envied and loathed the man.

The hairs on the back of Kain's neck stirred, and he pulled his lance from the ground, spinning around. Behind him stood a figure swathed in red robes which covered battle armor. Four swords were tucked in his belt, and four arms were folded about his body, hugging himself. Kain recognized the man; Gilgamesh, Golbez's lackey.

"Where have you been?" Kain asked.

The four-armed warrior shrugged. "About. Fixing what needed to be fixed. Putting things back where they belonged. Things move too quickly, and not even I have enough hands to catch them all. Where is your party?"

Kain let out a sigh, shaking his head. "Back in the mountains. One of them was injured by Sephiroth. One… no, two others are seeking out a cure. I decided to follow Sephiroth's trail, to see if I could find out where he was going."

Gilgamesh nodded, taking each point in turn. He pointedly looked at Kain's spear, jabbing a finger in its direction. "Why is your weapon weak?"

"Excuse me?"

"Your lance. It was to have a great many charges in it. And yet, it is weaker than it should be. Why?"

"I picked up an extra person," Kain admitted, understanding the man's line of questioning. "Cyan Garamonde, a samurai knight from a land called Doma. He would have died if I hadn't take him—"

"Then you should have let him die. The Lunarians, as they call themselves now, try with all their might to make sure the dimensions stay intact. They have three… _four _guardians to help maintain that."

"Four guardians?" Kain asked. "I thought Golbez only had you. Who are they?"

Gilgamesh ignored him, continuing on as if he had never been interrupted; "And now, Golbez ups and decides he needs an errand boy plus a posse to help him. And to make matters worse, you're now recruiting people Golbez didn't tell you to recruit. Did it ever occur to you that _maybe_ there was a reason you didn't know that there are multiple worlds out there before last week?"

Kain met the man's gaze and held it. He refused to apologize for saving another man's life. "I don't care about your rules, and I don't care about what Golbez wants me to do. I didn't ask for this. It was thrown on me. Golbez wants me to do this? Fine. I'll do it. But I'll do it my way. And if he doesn't like that, he can find someone else. I just want to go home."

"No you don't," Gilgamesh said contemptuously. "Why would you want to go back to your world? You're another man's shadow there. There's nothing there for you. Not even a woman."

"Was there something you wanted?" Kain asked, ice filling his voice.

"Sephiroth's crossed the ocean."

"I noticed."

"Don't be flippant with me. You have no hope of catching up with him. Not without my help. Luckily, I know of a source of magic, one that doesn't connect to Golbez in any way, which will allow you to teleport. It's something called a Materia, and as far as I can tell, it's currently a prize of some sort at a tournament. My divination spells won't tell me any more than that, though, but one of the other Guardians has been sent after it."

Kain threw back his head and laughed. Gilgamesh took a step back, eyeing him questioningly. The Dragoon smiled when he was done, and said, "Well, I guess fortune shines on us now. Shadow and Vincent are already going to pick it up."

"Who?"

"Shadow and Vincent."

"Who is this 'Vincent'?"

"Who are these 'guardians'?" Kain shot back.

"Fire, Earth, Wind and Water," Gilgamesh replied cryptically. "The same as what the other side has. Balance, and all that."

"The 'other side'?"

Gilgamesh shook his head ruefully. "No no. It doesn't work like that. We set up rules, even if you didn't know it. I answered one of your questions, now you answer mine. Who is this 'Vincent'?"

"I don't know, actually," he admitted. "He was fighting Sephiroth, and offered to help. He's from this world, so it's not like I haven't taken him anywhere I shouldn't have."

"But you will inevitably 'adopt' him anyway," Gilgamesh said in disgust.

"Maybe I will," Kain said, anger rising. He didn't like Golbez. But with everything Golbez had done, Kain felt that particular dislike became overshadowed by his newfound loathing of Gilgamesh. "Do you have anything else to say? Or did you just come here to insult me?"

"Come with me," Gilgamesh said, his eyes narrowing. It was obvious that the four-armed man didn't like Kain either. "We have long to travel to meet up with your wounded. I intend to get you this Materia before sunrise."

Chapter Twenty-One

Ninjas!

The crowd cheered as Shadow stepped into the ring. It was a sound he was used to. In his own world, thousands had given him similar praise whenever he entered the Coliseum, having bet fortunes in his name, and only once had he ever failed them. Then, he hadn't cared for their adulation, or their opinions, or the deafening roar of their voices. He cared not for it now. But the sound of it was… comforting, familiar.

The cheering rose to new heights as Yuffie Kisaragi entered the arena from the opposite side. Apparently, while he was a favourite among the fans, Yuffie was more so. He'd watched her fight over a video replay, studying her style, as she had likewise did for him as well. Her technique was flashy, flamboyant, and very showy, depending on fancy throws with her shuriken, and stylish Materia attacks. She didn't fight her opponent. She fought for her audience. And they loved her for it.

Already Shadow had devised several ways to get around her magical attacks. He'd fought the very best magic user himself, Kefka Palazzo. Some upstart wannabe ninja girl wasn't going to get the best of him. And this fight, he wasn't handicapped like he had with Rude. It'd taken him most of the entire time between matches to scrub and burn the poison completely off his blades, but it was worth it. He would not be unarmed this fight.

The referee signaled, and immediately he was in motion. But so was she. For every two shuriken he produced and threw at her, she through one. She wasn't as quick as he was, but she was the closest he'd ever encountered.

The two ran as they threw their projectiles, narrowly missing their opponents as each combatant would unexpectedly stop, or duck, or put on more speed to evade the pieces of hurled steel. One of Shadow's shuriken finally found its mark, and bounced off harmlessly. His eyes narrowed for a second, and he made note of it. So, she was faster than she looked. She was casting spells in addition to attacking. That was a protect spell his shuriken had just been deflected by. He found himself subconsciously reaching into his own mind, trying to access the Esper magic, and then stopped himself. The magic from his world was dead. No point in looking for something that wasn't there. Without the ability to dispel, though, the only way to negate her protect spell would be to strike it as often as possible.

Changing his tactics appropriately, he threw shuriken both high and low in a wide fan on either side of her. She took the time to try to discern what he was doing, slowing down, hesitating just enough that he was able to pull his two knives out and begin running forward.

* * *

Vincent paced the inside of his arena. With the first round ended, and the undesirables out of the tournament, several battles could be fought at once. Televisions were placed everywhere in Battle Square, so observers could watch whoever they wished, and tunnels had been erected between the stands so the people watching the fight live could hurriedly switch to different arenas to watch where the action was hottest. Vincent surmised that it was currently the fight between Shadow and Yuffie, as empty as his arena was. Given the… length … of his previous battle, people weren't so excited to watch him fight. A person who depended on a quick draw with a gun was boring to the average person. They had no idea the kind of skill that was involved. Still, he had some people waiting to watch his next match. Apparently, there was a better pool to determine not if Vincent won, but how quickly the match would be over. The main time people were betting was between six and eight seconds.

The Turk's next opponent was supposedly someone who, according to rumor, had bribed his way into the arena. Vincent had looked into it, immediately intrigued. His opponent hadn't apparently fought in the first match up at all, and ever more curiously, hadn't been seen entering Gold Saucer via the front gates. A quick examination of the video records revealed this to be true.

The opponent's door opened, and the crowd, such as it was, eagerly pressed forward to see who Valentine's opponent was. A collective groan was let out as the opponent walked in, an arrogant stride to his step.

Everyone seemed vastly disappointed at Vincent's 'challenge', and the Turk wasn't sure if he could blame them. It was clear why the contestant had to bribe his way in, like Yuffie doubtlessly had to. He was probably even younger than the little ninja princess. Probably sixteen, at most.

"Introducing our next opponent," the referee announced. "Zidane Tribal!"

Vincent didn't even get time to draw his gun before Zidane had thrown two knives directly at him.

* * *

Even as Shadow's blades were deflected once more by Yuffie's protect spell, the ninja princess danced backwards, throwing two, small throwing shaken. Shadow twisted just in time to avoid the first, but the second narrowly grazed across his chest, cutting cloth and skin alike. It would bleed very little, but enough to be a nuisance.

He kept moving forward, pressing his small advantage. One knife would go low, the other high, and the girl barely deflected both with two of her own knives, which seemed to appear in her hands as if by magic. Even so, as she parried the attack, Shadow spun, his left leg colliding with the shield where her head was. The girl involuntarily flinched despite the lack of impact to herself, and Shadow followed through as his left foot came down, crouching in one motion and spinning his right leg around in a sweep to catch her feet. The protect spell didn't stop the attack. Yuffie's feet came out from underneath her, and she fell to the ground. Her magical protection had blocked its last blow.

The assassin moved in quickly, hoping to stop the girl before she could cast another protect spell. Even as he lunged at her, a green blaze emanated from a bracer she wore, and a blaze of lightning caught him, striking him down and sending him sprawling.

He muscles spasmed, jerking about uncontrollably, but still he forced himself to roll away, even as shuriken struck the ground where he'd fallen. Instantly he was back on his feet, but Yuffie was there, pressing the attack, launching a high kick to his head. She was expecting him to still be weak. She was wrong.

Catching the foot with both hands, he pushed forward, sending her backwards and off balance. Had he been at full strength, he would have forced her to the ground with that move. Instead, she stumbled back blindly; her arms wind milling as she teetered about. Already he was moving forward, pushing the advantage. She barely blocked the three-punch combination he threw at her, but still managed a counter-attack.

She was good. In a few more years, she'd be his equal. Unfortunately, for all her pure skill and agility, Shadow had just as much, coupled with more than a decade of experience. And close as they were, she'd lost her main advantage of being able to cast spells. Even so, his muscles were on fire from the magical attack from earlier, and he knew he wouldn't be able to keep up with her pace for long.

"Not bad, gramps," Yuffie said, a pretend smile on her face as the two continued to throw punches and kicks at each other. "You're almost as quick as me."

Gramps? _Gramps?_ From the moment he'd met the girl, there was something that had annoyed him. An air about her. The reason why was now abundantly clear.

"Quicker," he said through gritted teeth, and flung both arms forward in a push, knocking her off balance and smashing through her block. Before she could put up another defense, his left hand snapped forward in a feint towards her face, while the other darted towards her belt pouch. She instinctively attempted to block the attack that came for her head, an attack that never connected as Shadow threw his weight to his right. He yanked hard as his hand gripped onto her belt pouch, tearing it from her waist.

"Hey!" the girl cried, but Shadow back flipped away in an amazing display of acrobatics, bounding across the arena. The crowd cheered.

"Much quicker," Shadow said evenly as he came to a stop and held up the pouch that held her shuriken.

She lifted up her arm, and a look of concentration came across her face. He didn't wait for the magical attack. His arm snapped back and fired her pouch back at her. Focused as she was, she didn't see the projectile until it smacked her in the nose. Sprinting once more, he was on top of her before she recovered, delivering another blow to her face with the heel of his hand. Spinning around, he elbowed her in the stomach, and delivered a backhand into her nose.

Finally, she fell. Cheers erupted everywhere.

He took a moment to catch his breath. He felt about to collapse. He honestly hadn't expected her to be that good. Then again, it had been eight months since he'd last really plied his trade, in the final fight against Kefka. Of course he was rusty. That explained it. Not skill on her part. That had to be it.

He drew a knife, and began to bend down, ready to cut her wrist armor off her. Likely, that was where she kept her Full Cure Materia that Vincent had spoken of. Even as he did, the doors to the arena opened, and a platoon of samurai marched in, weapons half drawn.

He could take the Materia, but if he did, he'd be in for a real fight. One he would normally give even odds on, if not for his current fatigue. Amarant needed that Materia as soon as possible, but not at the risk of Shadow's own life. Another opportunity would present itself.

The assassin gave a mock bow to the samurai, and turned away, exiting the arena as they collected their princess. Even as he did, he saw Vincent sitting on a bench, cleaning his three-barreled gun.

"How many this time?" Shadow asked.

"Four shots," Vincent said simply.

Author's Note:

Once again, I apologize for the delays. My computer is a paperweight. Had to hook my hard drive into a friend's machine just to retrieve the stuff I'd already written. Expect more delays. I'll try to keep them to a minimum, but keeping to a steady schedule will be difficult.


	22. Assault on Shinra Tower

Chapter Twenty-Two

Assault on Shinra Tower

Avira was a quiet girl. She was the kind of child who all of the other kids subtly ignored because they knew she was different somehow from everyone else. And the truth was, Avira was different. From about every other person on the Planet besides about four other people that she knew of.

Now a grown woman, she still experienced the inattention of other people. This was mostly due to the fact that now she spent a lot of time hidden away, and so she didn't know that many people who were nice to her. She quietly worked away at whatever project she set herself and, if the project required it, she reported her findings to her superiors.

Right now her project was to gather the appropriate components for, and then to create, a powerful truth serum that she then had to deliver to Hart, who was technically her boss, but only because he could beat her and win. She didn't work as diligently as perhaps she should because it was not her own project, however the job would be done and Avira could go back to being ignored up in her lab. She liked science. She got it from her father.

* * *

The rotors thumped above Squall's head as he observed the readouts of the cockpit gravely. They were at the correct altitude, he had figured out how to fire the missiles and how to read the fuel gauge. Overall, he was quite pleased with himself, although he dared not show that to Irvine, lest he be open to some form of ridicule because of it. 

Irvine, who sat in the co-pilot's chair, leaned towards Squall, drew in a great lungful of air and bellowed something inaudible towards his fellow SeeD. Squall reached across, flicked a switch, and the rotors eased into an almost silent thwumping. He smiled pleasantly.

"Say again?"

Irvine almost scowled, but managed to avert commiting to the full expression and giving Squall the total satisfaction of knowing he had been vexed.

"I _said_, how long until we get there?"

Squall did a quick estimation. "About half an hour."

"So long?"

"We have to stop and prepare a plan of action first. Then we can storm the place."

"You're expecting combat?"

Squall nodded. "Almost certainly. What have you got junctioned?"

"My GF, the usual spells…plus a few I brought along with me just in case. Plus this little thing." He waved the small green stone that Red had informed them was, at best guess, a Contain materia.

Squall nodded, remembering the potentially devastating effects of the materia. It was a last resort however, unless Red decided to use it. Irvine's focus was somewhat erratic where the stone was concerned; he could very well hit a friendly target.

"What are the usual spells?"

"Cure, Fire, you know, nothing really exotic."

Squall frowned. "What about the extra ones?"

"Well…just a few spare ones in case I run into problems."

"…Like?"

"Confuse, Aura, Dispel…Float."

Squall's eyebrows shot up. "Float? Isn't that a waste of space?"

Irvine sniffed indignantly. "You never know, Squall."

He scoffed. "For the others maybe…surely you could have found a more useful use for your space than Float, though."

"Laugh all you want, it might be useful so I'm taking it."

Squall didn't look convinced, but refrained from further comment.

Red tapped Squall on the shoulder with a massive paw and indicated the horizon with his nose.

"There it is."

The Shinra building rose equally as a shattered monument of man's defiance to nature and of nature's response to that rebellion. Red had told the two SeeDs that Weapon had devastated the building after Shinra has fired on their enemy hiding in the north. Obviously the building was structurally sound enough to support marginal habitation however Squall was counting on the former company headquarters being in enough disarray to warrant his attack. Otherwise, this would be the shortest offensive of all time.

"All right, I'm going to set down here. We need to co-ordinate our efforts here," he said, and piloted the chopper into a descent vector.

* * *

Hart marched imperiously into the interrogation room that held their captive and waved Cloud to the side of the chamber. He glanced dully over his shoulder and complied with the command, and through the tears in her eyes Quistis watched him warily, with fear even. 

He folded his arms and looked Quistis full in the eyes for a minute before he spoke.

"Tell me about your world."

Quistis' eyes widened almost imperceptibly for a second, and then she was back to normal. It was enough for Hart, though.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Right, right. Now Quistis, because you've been very uncooperative, I don't have anything to report from our little encounter except my unfounded suspicions."

"What a shame."

"Actually, it is. For you."

Almost on cue, the door opened again behind Hart and a small, unassuming girl entered. Her short brown hair seemed plain in comparison to her sparkling green eyes, which hid some kind of trauma she kept buried away. Small lines of stress were evident in the corner of those eyes, giving away the burden she carried.

Hart gestured to Quistis, and the newcomer took small steps across the room, took a syringe from the case she was carrying and proceeded to inject the SeeD in the side of the neck. Quistis groaned as the fluid started to course through her veins, a mild burning sensation marking its progression through her body.

Hart watched this with mild interest. "That is a truth serum. Within moments you will tell me everything about what I ask of you."

"Aww, geez," said Quistis, already feeling mildly drowsy.

"Unfortunately, it's also a poison. Unless treated, you'll be dead within six hours. I like to think of it as additional incentive; for some reason should you be resistant to the truth serum, the knowledge that we are the only ones who have the antidote might loosen your tongue somewhat. However, it looks like you aren't immune, so that's pretty much irrelevant."

Quistis felt her tongue grow heavy in her mouth, and knew that this interrogation was over. She could not resist drugs; there was nothing conscious about such a procedure, only physiological, and she could direct and control her body as she did her mind.

Her last thought was that she had failed, and then the stupor hit her, and she was lost.

Hart waited until her head drooped against her chest to begin asking questions. He had to be completely sure she was under before he began.

"Your name?"

"Quistis Trepe." The answer was faltering, but began immediately after he asked the question.

"Good. Now, tell me, in as much detail as you can describe it to me, how you summoned Leviathan in that bar."

"We are not from this dimension," she began. "In the same way you use materia, we use Guardian Forces, which would seem to be the same thing as your summon monsters. They protect us and allow us to use magic and abilities."

"Do you have Leviathan?"

"No. My colleague, Squall Leonhart does."

"What GF do you possess?"

"Alexander."

"Why only one?"

"GFs have been known to cause memory loss. As a result, it's standard procedure to only carry one on assignment."

"Where do you get your assignments?"

"From the Garden."

"And what is the Garden?"

"A military academy, a floating fortress. The force created to combat the Sorceress should she come into power again."

"Are you prominent in this academy?"

"Yes. Although there is no official ranking structure beyond the position of Headmaster, I am roughly second in the chain of command."

"Tell me about the Sorceress."

As she answered, hidden microphones transmitted her answer along wires built into the wall and carried them electronically two rooms down the corridor into the electronic surveillance room in which Hart had made his discovery.

The occupants of the interrogation room, although of the knowledge they were being recorded, were unaware that someone sat in that room, listening to their every word as they said it.

"_Now tell me about the Garden."_

"_The foremost military presence in the world, other than the Esthar and Galbadian armies. There are three Gardens, Balamb being the only one remaining in any kind of functional capacity. Housing over a thousand people, it trains students of all ages to become proficient in almost every kind of combat imaginable, be it ranged or close quarters. The list is endless; we train our students with blades, guns, heavy weapons, explosives, espionage, support magic, combat magic, defensive magic, sniper rifles, crowd suppression equipment, gas, tactical missiles, amphibious attack vehicles, tanks, light reconnaissance aircraft - "_

"_Thank you, that's quite sufficient."_

Reno's eyebrows raised a little more each time Quistis named a branch of the Garden. "I think I just wet my pants."

The exchange, other than being recorded through the microphones, was converted into text and was constantly being printed onto paper in one of the corners of the room. Reno didn't yet know there was another who would be impressed by the content of Quistis' confession, and that it wouldn't be the description of the Garden that would pique their interest.

* * *

Squall climbed back into the helicopter and started up the engine. Irvine clambered after him, joining Red in the back. 

"…All I'm saying is, won't they like, kill Quistis if they think we're after her?"

"They won't have time to think that. We blow the primary generator with a missile, then we head to the main entrance, take out the front guard and head in, find Quistis, and head out."

"I think I've found a flaw in your plan," said Red. He had helpfully provided valuable information with which Squall had constructed this arguably insane plan, but he had been mulling it over trying to find gaps.

"What is it?"

The chopper lifted off the ground as Red began to speak. "It used to be standard procedure for Shinra to tag their captives with tracking devices. There are exceptions, namely when we were held captive by the corporation, however Quistis will probably have been tagged. If you don't want to be cornered and killed before you leave the building I'd suggest deactivating the tracker."

"What exceptions?" asked Irvine.

"The guards were all killed before we could be tagged, another instance was when the captives were scheduled for public execution and it probably wasn't considered cost effective to tag someone who would be executed shortly."

"Oh."

"How do we deactivate it?" asked Squall.

"That's what I've been thinking about. I think the best course of action would be to take out the main security control room, which will not only remove their ability to see the tracking signal but also stands a good chance of disabling the tracker remotely."

"And how do we do that?"

"You don't. I do."

"Red," said Irvine. "That's nuts."

"Not really. Firstly, it's my idea. Secondly, I know where the security checkpoints are. Thirdly, I'm better adapted to crawling around in air vents than the two of you, which is how I was planning on infiltrating the building. Need I go on?"

"That won't be necessary," said Squall. He thought about it for a few seconds. "How were you planning on taking out the control room? Can't we use the missiles like we're doing with the power generator?"

The main energy room was located somewhere in the middle of the building, which they could take out directly with a missile. Squall supposed that if Shinra controlled all of the helicopters, then they needn't worry about an aerial attack and so put the generators up out of the range of ground attacks. Squall thanked them silently for their arrogance.

Red shook his head. "The security room is under the ground in the sub basement, out of the range of missiles. I'll take out the controls manually; all it really involves is tapping buttons in the right combination. It would have been sensible for Shinra to switch the places of the security and power generator rooms, however I'm sure there was some kind of bureaucratic reason for having them in the places they occupy now. I just can't think of it."

"As long as you consider it an acceptable risk."

"I would not be putting forward this plan of action unless I thought I could complete it quickly and safely. In fact I will be safer in the air vents, away from any explosions and rapid gunfire than I would with you. I'm not equipped for long range fighting, and that is what I suspect this skirmish will for the most part be."

"I'd been wondering about that," admitted Irvine.

Squall mused for a few seconds before slowly nodding. "All right, it doesn't look like we have a choice in the matter. We'll drop you off just before we blow the generator."

Red agreed. "Ample time."

"We're nearly there," said Irvine. The Shinra building now filled the front of the chopper window. It was bigger than he had realised.

Squall descended close enough to the ground to allow Red to jump out.

"Good luck!" he called, and the big animal nodded in reply before leaping to the cracked concrete below. Squall elevated the chopper once he was clear and armed the missile system.

"Are you sure about this Squall?" asked Irvine as his boss targeted the estimated location of the power generators, his thumb hovering over the button built into the chopper control sticks.

"There's no going back now," said Squall.

He squeezed the button.

* * *

Author's Note:

Once again, I apologize for delays. I expected to have enough money to replace my motherboard by now. Unfortunately, that fell through. So... keep expecting them. Also, thank you once again to those of you who take the time to review. It's very much appreciated.


	23. Fight of the Century

The bathroom stall was quiet. Dio liked that. He needed the quiet. Needed the peace of mind. His family still didn't know that he'd signed Gold Saucer over to Rufus Shinra. And he still regretted that decision with every fiber of his being. He loved his theme park. He loved it every bit as much as he loved his family. And he didn't love it because of the money or the prestige it gave him. He loved it for the smiles it put on people's faces. The happiness it gave to other families, no matter how briefly, whenever they came. He loved the gondola. He loved the chocobo races. He loved the hotel, and the rides, and the theatre. But most of all, he loved Battle Square. And tonight, it was hosting his ultimate achievement, a battle between men and women from all corners of the world. All for a prize they coveted, but had no idea as to what it truly was. Most had heard it was a Materia of some sort. Some had heard it was a teleportation Materia, and that was a half truth. It was a type of Materia Dio had only thought was a myth when his own men in Bone Village had unearthed it just months ago. He'd never seen one like it, and found himself afraid to touch it, and never dared think to use it. He'd just slipped it into a box, and never opened it again. Being in the same room with it made him nervous, knowing what it was capable of.

But that didn't matter. To the winner of the tournament would go that Materia. Dio had advertised that fact long before Rufus had taken over Gold Saucer, and there was no way that the former President of Shinra could take that back without getting a lot of people angry. Soon it would be gone, taken out of Gold Saucer and never returned. But even that held little meaning for Dio now.

He wanted his final battle. His great and epic tournament. And he wanted to preside over it. But Rufus had taken that from him. He'd get it back. And he knew how.

He rolled the yellow Materia orb in his hands, only glancing at it, but mostly staring at the ceiling. It felt underhanded and wrong, what he was about to do. Dio was a standup man. Someone who liked an upfront fight. How he'd ever been pulled into running an entertainment park after the Midgar/Wutai war was beyond anyone's guess, but for a time, it had felt right. Especially the Battle Square. And he'd get it back. But he was a warrior first, and an entertainer second. He would prefer to meet Rufus on the field of combat, and destroy him. But that wasn't an option. Not when the Turks stood between them.

So, it came to this. This underhanded tactic. This stupid, yellow orb with magic knowledge handed down from the Cetra. He tried not to look at it, but his eyes kept shifting to it. It was the only way.

He'd use the yellow orb – the Manipulate Materia – to make Rufus Shinra give Gold Saucer back and leave his family alone. It had cost quite a lot of money to get it, and Dio wished sorely he'd had it when Rufus had first made his bid for power. But now…

The door to the bathroom banged open, and Dio, sitting in the stall, nearly jumped at the sudden sound. Reflexively, and he didn't know why, he lifted his feet and held his breath. He wasn't hiding. No. He just didn't want anyone to see him.

Someone walked by the stall, and Dio saw a pair of soft, black leather shoes go past. They moved past where he was, strolling slowly by each stall. A click sounded, and he knew the bathroom door had been locked by a second person. Two men in the bathroom, one checking for other people discretely, the other ensuring privacy. What…?

"You have to forfeit the match," the man closest to the door sounded. Dio recognized that voice, even though he'd only met the man twice before. Valentine, one of the finalists in the tournament. And if the other was supposed to forfeit… the other one had to be Shadow.

"Why?" The man sounded amused.

"We didn't come here to win the tournament, just to get our hands on Yuffie. We've failed in that so far. I have a plan to make sure we get her, though."

"Oh?"

"The grand prize of the tournament is a rare Materia of some sort. Rumours say it's some sort of teleportation Materia. An odd coincidence, considering recent events."

What could _that_ mean? Dio felt sweat beading on his forehead, and he let loose a breath ever so softly, trying not to make noise.

"And?"

"And Yuffie will undoubtedly try to steal it. When she does, one of us will have to surprise her and steal it back before she can get away."

"And I suppose this person will be you?"

"No. You're the best choice. She knows me too well."

"And why do I have to forfeit the match?"

"Not forfeit, per se… I'll load my pistol with blanks. We'll play out a mock battle, and I'll 'shoot' you. You will pretend to be gravely injured, fall, and medics will take you out of the arena in a hurry. Once outside, the focus will be off you. You'll make a 'miraculous recovery', get up, and prepare yourself to strike Yuffie down when she steals the Materia. No killing, though. Once she's unconscious, we'll be free to take her Full Cure Materia, and if this mystery Materia is what it's supposed to be, we'll get on our way that much quicker."

There was a hesitation before Shadow spat out, "Fine."

The door unlocked, opened, and the sound of one pair of feet walking from the room. The other pair didn't follow.

Dio was shaking with rage. He clenched his jaw, and could feel his blood boiling. These two were going to _ruin_ his tournament, make it a mockery by having one of them take a fall! How _dare_ they! He'd built this up for years, had it taken away from Rufus, and now he wouldn't even get the satisfaction of watching two true warriors in combat!

He didn't even think before he acted. He raised the Manipulate Materia and began focusing it on the man just outside the stall. Immediately he was aware of the other man's mind, of a heavy suspicion and paranoia concerning Vincent Valentine, and anger towards something else, still near the surface. A Manipulate Materia was supposed to be a surgical tool, used to carefully cultivate feelings against someone they normally would trust. But already there was no trust from Shadow for Valentine. Precision wasn't required. Using the full brunt of magical energy, Dio slammed into Shadow's mind, forcing layers and layers of anger and resentment and suspicion and loathing to the forefront.

The change was sudden. Dio heard a bellow of rage, followed by glass shattering. The door slammed open, and the former owner of Gold Saucer smiled, the first time in the past week. He would get his fight, and Valentine would be the poorer for it.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Fight of the Century

Shadow's fist hit the mirror he'd casually been looking at. He wasn't sure why he did it, but it sure felt _good_. Everything in his life seemed to be nothing but rotting garbage. First, he'd failed Baram, and become a hunted man. Then, he'd failed his love, and later his own daughter by abandoning her by being too frightened to stay in any one place for too long. He'd come a 'hero' in a sense for a short while, and then ran away from that as well, seeking to start a new life. One that had been so casually ripped to shreds by Siegfried… no, ripped to shreds by _Highwind_. And then Highwind had saddled him with Valentine, who he didn't trust. For all Shadow knew, this ploy with the blanks was a trick of some sort. He wasn't going to just sit still while Valentine shot at him. Oh no. There were probably real bullets inside that gun, and Valentine – for whatever reason – was going to kill him and claim this mystery Materia for himself. That was what the man was really after. It had to be. Sephiroth, who Valentine _conveniently_ had been fighting with, _conveniently_ injured Amarant and Valentine _conveniently_ knew a cure for Amarant that was _conveniently_ on a person that he just happened to _conveniently_ know at a tournament that was _conveniently_ taking place. Likely, Valentine was in cahoots with Sephiroth, and this was some sort of plan between the two of them. They wanted this teleportation Materia. After all, what easier way to move between worlds?

Shadow stalked from the room, his mood growing darker with the second. Valentine was clearly the enemy. He hadn't trusted the man from the start. But now his suspicions were confirmed. He slammed the door behind him as he exited.

It was all becoming so painfully clear. Vincent Valentine was the enemy, and Shadow would stop him, even if he had to kill him before a live audience.

* * *

Vincent checked Cerberus once more, making sure that there were indeed blanks in the pistol. He knew they were. He'd already triple checked them before loading, and after just to be absolutely certain. A man's life was in his hands if he messed up. It was a good thing that Vincent Valentine never messed up.

The arena doors opened, and the crowd went wild, cheers erupting from everywhere. Vincent was admired by many, but Shadow was clearly the favorite. Vincent's fights ended too quickly, there was no real style to them. Shadow had shown skill, cunning, and an unbelievable display of speed. He was clearly the one the crowd wanted to win, to bring down the 'coward' who relied on a gun.

There was no formal choreography ready for this battle, and Vincent wished that they had the time to plan in advance. All they had to do was make it look convincing for Yuffie, the only one who mattered. As long as she believed that the fight was real and that Shadow was truly injured at the end of it, they could manage their subterfuge.

The referee called the beginning of the match. The crowd went silent.

Vincent wasn't prepared for how fast Shadow was. Locke had been quick. Zidane even quicker. Shadow moved faster than either, his hands a blur as they launched shuriken at Vincent. The ex-Turk snapped his cape up and side-stepped, the cloak catching the projectiles, and letting them pass no further. He wasn't sure what the cloak was made of – that was a secret only Hojo, who was dead, knew – but he did know that the material seemed to have almost supernatural abilities.

Not following that train of thought any further, Vincent aimed Cerberus and began firing. It was all for show; no bullets would hit. But still he kept his pistol trained on the assassin, trying to pretend as if he were really trying to shoot him. Shadow ducked and dodged, making surprisingly agile twists and feints, as if he were really dodging bullets. The man was certainly a good actor. Vincent almost felt as if Shadow really thought he was trying to avoid the real thing.

Another barrage of shuriken flew through the air, and Vincent was hard-pressed to dodge every piece of metal. One glanced off his gauntlet, and another neatly sliced his arm. Those would have found his heart and lungs, more than likely, if he hadn't been as quick as he was. Either Shadow was a really good judge of speed and reaction time, or he was really trying to kill him.

Vincent didn't get the opportunity to ponder the matter further. Two knifes sprung into Shadow's hands, and the assassin closed the distance between them.

* * *

Dio watched the fight from a monitor in the main waiting area with a sense of glee. He needed this. A lot more than he thought he would have. Manipulating Shadow had been child's play. And even as the two warriors attacked each other, and Vincent began to realize how serious the fight really was, Dio started to wonder what other uses he could make of the Manipulate Materia. How far did its power extend?

Thoughts of Rufus bowing – no, _groveling_ – flitted through Dio's imagination, and a wide grin split his face nearly in two. He fingered the yellow orb, rubbing it almost affectionately. Yes, this would be the tool for Rufus' humiliation. He just needed to get to the man. More than likely he was in his office, playing at manager of Gold Saucer.

The office would be heavily guarded. And they were good men, but they were hardly the running Champions of Battle Square, four years running before retirement. No, they were all hired guns and swords, all with some experience in combat, but none of them had the skill or killer instinct that Dio had.

He mused over several combat situations and how he could defeat the guards with great ease as he headed towards the private elevator that led to his former office. He had already envisioned how he would beat the guard up standing watch over it ten different ways before he got a chance to employ one of them – a solid punch to the stomach, followed by kneeing the man in the nose – and enter the elevator.

Yes, this was even more perfect than the tournament. He would break Rufus in half, and it would feel _good_. But first, he'd make him beg. Whimper, even. Maybe he'd get Rufus to plead for his life without the aid of the Manipulate Materia. Or maybe he'd get him to cry like the pale shadow of a man that he was, hiding behind his Turks, and—

The elevator door opened up, and a pair of hands grabbed him. Dio attempted to free himself from the grapple, but it was too late. Rude already had him in a strong hold, one that was quickly turning into a—

_Crash!_

The impact with the wall left him dazed. He hadn't expected the throw to be so quick, so perfectly executed. How had Rude known he was coming? How had he been expected? Surely Rufus hadn't planned for this. The man was supposed to be a tactical genius, but surely he expected Dio to be tame, beaten.

Standing up, Dio delivered a right hook at Rude, which the Turk ducked under, and retaliated with a solid punch to the former manager of Gold Saucer's ribs. The wind was driven right from Dio's lungs, and he attempted to stumble back and get out of range of Rude's follow-up. Too late, he realized, as the Turk kicked him in one knee, causing a loud _snap_. Even as the would-be conqueror began to fall, letting out a small scream of agony, the Turk had him by the throat, and began to lift.

"How…?" Dio asked, gritting his teeth through the pain.

"Sensors detected Materia use," the Turk said simply. "The President has been gone for two hours. He's taken the next step."

The next step? What was that? Dio never got the opportunity to figure out, as the Turk firmly wrenched, snapping his neck.

* * *

Vincent was panting heavily, warily watching Shadow, who was similarly tired, standing across from him a good fifteen feet away. The battle had gone from ranged to melee, and back to ranged, with neither opponent coming out particularly on top. Vincent was cut along the ribs and had a neat slice across one cheek from where shuriken had come too close for his liking, and Shadow had a graze in one shoulder from a bullet Vincent had managed to get to clip him. No more was Vincent hiding behind blanks and trying to make a pretend end to the match. It was beyond that. It was clear that Shadow was fighting for real, for whatever reason. Could it be something as juvenile as wanting to win the contest?

The former Turk very much doubted that, but the possibility was real. Worse, he could hear the four demons inside calling to him. They wanted out, and the way the fight had escalated, their release was a very real possibility. But if that happened, Vincent could in no way guarantee Shadow's safety.

The two attempted to stare each other down. Both knew every fight was only fifty percent physical skill. The other half was in the realm of the mind. But neither could seem to find an advantage there. The two opponents didn't know enough of each other to test for weaknesses in will, and both seemed to have defenses made of confidence and determination that no army could ever assail.

Instead, the two warriors stood watching each other, both struggling to maintain a perfect equilibrium to their breathing, despite weariness. They both knew they were running low on ammunition. Vincent did not have unlimited bullets, and Shadow hardly had an infinite supply of shuriken, despite the fact that he had in fact shown that he could pick them back up and throw them again.

Soon it would come to a hand-to-hand fight, and they both knew it. There, Shadow would have the advantage, up to a point. Vincent knew how to defend himself in that area, but he was no Tifa Lockhart.

_Let me out!_ a voice cried in Vincent's head. Chaos. It was clawing at the surface of his mind. For a brief second, he felt faint.

Shadow abruptly straightened, and out of pure reflex, Vincent squeezed off three rounds at the assassin, all the while retreating to stay away from his opponent's blades. As usual, Shadow almost seemed to sidestep the bullets with contemptuous ease, but at the same time, his own weapons never came close to the former Turk.

Once again, they paused for only the barest fraction of a second, before continuing on in their endless dance.

* * *

Rufus sat safely in a helicopter flying over the ocean towards Midgar, completely oblivious to what was happening in Gold Saucer. Thoughts of the ultimate winner of the tournament were far from his mind. He didn't care. Vincent Valentine would never follow him, and doubtless given the company that he was in, Shadow would not either. A pity. Both would have made excellent tools, albeit dangerous ones.

No, for now, Rufus had a small army. Nothing ground shaking, but good enough to serve his purposes. A small strike on Shinra Tower, relying mostly on stealth. A diversionary force of three hundred Wutaian samurai and ninja would strike at the Tower from multiple directions, but they were there only to draw attention. Get in, kill Domino, and get out. That's all he and his team would need to do. From there, he could make a claim on what was left, and if any dared challenge him, they could be dealt with. Rufus doubted anyone would. Not even that self-important idiot Hart would stand up to him once Domino was finished.

Rufus couldn't help but grin. Everything was falling into place so perfectly.

"Good to see one of us is having fun," the man sitting across from him muttered.

The soon-to-be President appraised Locke Cole. The man was an unwilling ally. The 'treasure hunter', as he so boldly proclaimed himself, had claimed to come from 'elsewhere.' Where that was, Rufus wasn't sure, but it was something to exploit.

"You help me," Rufus said, "and I'll help you. You managed to sneak into Gold Saucer undetected, and slip yourself into the tournament without paying the entry fee. Coupled with one of my agents hearing your bragging, I understand that you claim you can get into anywhere you wish."

"It's a skill," the man said confidently, but with a hint of weariness. "If I help you get into this place you're going to assault, you'll get me home?"

The question had been asked a dozen times, and quite frankly, Rufus had no intention of honouring it. But still he said, "Of course. My word is my bond."

* * *

Rude watched the fight between the two combatants, a pensive expression on his face. It was the closest thing to emotion he usually showed, and only when in private. He didn't like to be open about what he was thinking, and kept everything to himself. He did that to the point where expressing himself was almost physically painful. Openness only led to weakness, and weakness in his job led to death.

He still felt the sting of humiliation from his defeat at Shadow's hands in the first round. He was a warrior born. Losing in the first round wasn't an option. Losing at all wasn't an option. And more, Vincent Valentine was down there as well, one of the few Turks in history to have a more impressive record than Rude's. Another man who had defeated him in battle. There weren't many of those.

Dio's body had been removed from Rufus' office, and so the Turk was in the room alone now, accompanied only by the lone Materia that was to be the prize for this tournament. Rude had no use for Materia. He preferred strength of arms to magic use, but still, that Materia represented the victor of the tournament. A prize Rude no longer had the right to. And to add insult to injury, Rufus had instructed Rude to bestow the prize to the winner of the tournament in his absence.

Still, if no one won the tournament, a rematch could be called up, and Rude could still win. He didn't even think about what he did; he just acted. Thumbing some controls that lay on Rufus' desk, he activated the doors to the monster pens to be opened, allowing caged up creatures and robots loose. They were normally held in so that they could fight arena opponents one at a time. Now, all of them would come at once.

Somehow, Rude managed to find it in him to smile.

* * *

Even as Shadow kicked the gun from Vincent's hand, he hesitated, not following through on the attack. The anger, the inexplicable rage that had filled him, was quickly fading, as if it had never truly belonged and only now forced itself to retreat. The paranoia of Vincent was still there, but not nearly as strong as it had been. It was back to the level that it had normally rested at since the two had first met and been forced to work together.

Somehow, he'd been controlled, manipulated, but he wasn't sure how. Magic, more than likely. Hs feelings, his thoughts, had not been his own. And he'd nearly killed his 'partner' as a result.

Even as Shadow slowed for just a moment, confusion filling him, Vincent threw a solid punch with his gauntleted hand, smashing into Shadow's nose. The assassin stumbled back, a stream of swear words erupting from him as he clutched at his face, and made an awkward attempt to dodge away as Vincent picked up his gun once more.

"Hold!" Shadow growled, "I'm fine now!"

Vincent fired off two rounds, and Shadow only narrowly dodged them.

"I'm on your side again! I was being controlled, damn you!"

Vincent stopped, his gaze scrutinizing. The crowd's cheers died for a moment as they saw the fight disappear from both of the contestants, their bloodlust going unanswered. For what seemed like an eternity, Vincent stared Shadow down the sight of his gun, until finally, he pointed the gun slightly upwards, towards the ceiling.

Shadow heaved a sigh of relief. Things were finally back to sanity. And then the gates to the monster pens opened up.

The two whirled to see the new threat, and the crowd gasped as a slew of monsters charged forth. Onward flew winged monstrosities. Below charged smaller beasts, darting left or right, some covered in fur, others covered in armor plates and spikes. And in the center, thundering ahead on monstrous legs the size of tree trunks came a Behemoth.

Their hesitation lasted only a second. They did not need to motion for each other to move, or even confer some semblance of a plan. These two men were warriors, yes, but loners as well. While they had worked with teams, their best performances had always been done on their own. They began to act – both separately and together – on instinct, reverting to habits.

Gunfire rang out, taking several of the fliers, while shuriken softly whistled through the air, slicing through the ground forces. The monsters covered the distance quickly, the smaller ones at the forefront, the Behemoth struggling to keep up despite its massive girth.

Immediately Shadow abandoned his shuriken. They would do no good at close range. More importantly, he had to keep the monsters away from Vincent, so he could continue to inflict maximum damage with his three-barreled pistol. More shots fired as Shadow went to work with his daggers – both of which were nearly short swords – neatly slicing at throats and hamstrings of anything that dare come close to him. He moved like a whirlwind, seemingly spinning in a circle almost, blood splashing as he twirled. Nothing got by him.

Not even the Behemoth stood a chance. Even as it approached, Shadow threw on dagger, taking the great beast's left eye with it. It howled, but continued, shrugging off the wound. Leaping up, Shadow caught the monstrosity by its main with his free hand, and used it as leverage, swinging upwards and onto its back.

Drawing another dagger from his boot, Shadow began to slash, slicing every which way across the Behemoth's back, even as Vincent shot at its face. It lasted only seconds. It felt like hours.

The Behemoth crashed down, flanked by the dead bodies of its fellow monsters. Even as it collapsed, Shadow climbed down the beast, pausing only to retrieve his dagger, wipe it off on the Behemoth's coat, and sheath it.

Straightening, he regarded Vincent, who was reloading his pistol.

"Blanks?" the assassin asked, ready to fake his defeat as was the original plan.

Vincent pointed the gun at him, aiming at Shadow's chest. "No."

A gunshot rang out. The crowd cheered.

* * *

Yuffie watched the fight with only half interest. She knew all along that Vincent would win, and no wannabe ninja would ever beat him. Never mind that said wannabe ninja had beaten her. He had, after all, only gotten lucky. That was her reasoning, and she was sticking to it.

No, what Yuffie was interested in was the prize. A mystery Materia that rumor said could teleport a person. While she had no interest in teleporting, the ability itself was rare. Rare enough that'd she never heard of it before. It might just be an exaggeration, but to Yuffie Kisaragi, all rare Materia was hers for the taking.

This was it. Shadow was done, Vincent had won. All her waiting… she nearly laughed with glee from her hiding spot in one of the catwalks above.

Immediately medics rushed into the arena, carrying a stretcher which they promptly placed Shadow in, rushing him out. Soon behind them came Rude, carrying a box. The grin on her face threatened to split her visage in two.

"Congratulations on your victory," Rude said into a microphone, and made as if to hand over the prize. He never got the chance.

Yuffie held up a controller and pressed the big red button – why the button always had to be red was beyond the ninja's guess – that activated the smoke bombs her soldiers had placed over the arena during the last round's cleanup. No one ever paid too much attention to janitors, especially foreign Wutaian ones.

Vincent ad Rude choked on the smoke, and looked about frantically, trying to discern which direction the inevitable attack would come from. They looked in every direction except the one that mattered: up.

Leaping from the catwalk, Yuffie sailed through the air, her arms greedily extended forward as she swung from the bungee cord she was secured from. She held her breath as she dove, and couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so alive.

Her momentum allowed her to rip the box out of Rude's hands as she swung by. Even she did, she twisted about, pulled a shuriken from her belt, and threw it at the cord that held her. She went sailing across the arena, and dropped into a tumbling roll as she hit the ground, but she didn't stop moving. Guards would be on her momentarily, if not Rude and Vincent themselves. She ran as hard as she could, fleeing the arena and into Battle Square.

Once out, she threw herself into the crowd, ducking and dodging, weaving her way through, trying to make herself as small as she could so no one would see her. People gave her bewildered looks. Others cursed her as she dumped into them, shoving them out of her way in her desperate attempt to escape. Soon, she was out of Battle Square entirely, and found herself in Wonder Square. She wasted no time, avoiding people now, looking for the shadows between stores and gaming houses. She found a perfect one, a place very much like an alley, dark and secluded. Here, she would hide the box, and then go to her room in the hotel, surrounded by her guards. There would be a search done in her rooms of course, but nothing would be found, and as she hadn't actually been seen courtesy of the smoke bombs—

She let out a yelp as she felt a pair of hands grab her from behind, and she was turned about to face her attacker. Her eyes widened only for a second as she registered Shadow.

"How--?" she asked, confused, even as she dropped the box and attempted to break his hold. He smoothly countered the attack, and delivered a punch that left her head spinning and her vision swimming.

"Rubber bullet," he hissed. "Hurt, but didn't do any real harm."

"You found her?" came a voice from the other end of the alley. She knew that voice. How'd he get here so fast?

"Vincent!" she cried, "Get this jerk offa me!"

Instead, the ex-Turk calmly approached her, and with Shadow's assistance, flipped her upside down, each man holding a leg. Then, with deliberate action, the two began to jerk her up and down, shaking her.

"Lemme go!" she squawked indignantly.

She groaned as she saw gil and Materia and daggers and shuriken begin to fall from her pockets and onto the floor beneath her. She called, "No fair!" but neither listened, and continued to shake her about, until finally, all of her secret pockets and pouches were emptied. When they were done, they rudely dropped her on the ground, and began to paw through their loot. To her disgust, Vincent began to pocket Materia, while Shadow gathered her shuriken and knives.

"That's mine!"

Vincent turned a cold eye on her, and said, "Oh really?"

Well, maybe it hadn't always been hers, she amended in her mind. But it was now! This was theft, and she hated thieves!

"What about the prize?" Shadow asked, casting a glance over the box.

"We didn't come here for it," Vincent said. "It's not important. Let her have it."

Shadow nodded, picking the gilt-inlaid box up, and tossed it to her. So angry she was, she didn't even bother to try to catch it. It clattered on the ground, opening up, and the Materia inside fell out, rolling on the floor.

In all the time Yuffie knew Vincent, she had thought him expressionless, empty of emotion. At best, he was capable of self-loathing and irritation. At worst, he was a solid wall, never letting anyone through. The sudden gasp he made at the Materia that rolled out set off alarm bells in her mind. Her eyes darted toward it, intent on seeing what had caused such a reaction in him. And her jaw dropped.

* * *

"This is all there is?" Gilgamesh said in disgust. He waved two of his hands towards the group, while the other two hid beneath his cloak, likely gripping weapon hilts. "You've spent all this time, and this is what you have? An old man with a sword, a one-eyed albino, and a freak?"

Kain hadn't spent long with the people he found himself with, but still his reaction was predictable. For what must've been the tenth time since meeting Gilgamesh, the Dragoon felt the urge to drive his lance into the four-armed man's face. At the very least, it would make him feel a little bit better about his present situation.

"We're missing Shadow and one other," Kain said, purposely glaring down Fujin, who appeared ready to start a fight over the comment. "And Vincent, should we have need of him."

The comment was thrown in merely to anger Gilgamesh, but the warrior only nodded now, taking that in stride.

"It'll have to do," the man said. "Sephiroth is dangerous, and I'm not sure if Golbez was wise in putting this group together, but… we need it, for now. And now, you need to be in Gold Saucer, hunting down that Materia and gathering your group together."

"What do we even know about this Materia?" Kain asked.

"Not much," Gilgamesh admitted. "Golbez told me that it affects space, and can allow you to teleport from world to world, and that at some point, it had been used as a component in an airship, and another time as a weapon. But that's not important. Kain, you're going to have to teleport us to Gold Saucer using your lance."

"I thought you said I don't have many charges left," the Dragoon replied. Why was Gilgamesh suddenly going back on his former stance on everything?

"You don't, but once we have the Materia, it won't matter. Now, I want you to teleport us to Gold Saucer, now. We need to hurry. Sephiroth is in this world to accomplish something, and we need to stop him."

* * *

Shadow held up the Materia orb that had fallen from the box, bouncing it in his palm. He held it up to the light, finding that it seemed to absorb it, draining the life from it. The assassin frowned. He didn't know much about Materia, but he figured it wasn't supposed to do that. Even so…

"Put it down," Vincent said, an edge of caution to his voice. "I have to get rid of it."

Shadow glanced over to his partner, and raised an eyebrow. 'I', now 'we'. Well, it was good to see that Shadow's mistrust hadn't been misplaced. Partly because of curiosity, partly to see what Vincent's reaction would be, he flippantly asked, "Why?"

"Because that Materia is—"

"A black Materia," Shadow said. "Yes, I heard you the first time. Frankly, I'm disgusted by how everyone seems to associate black with evil."

"Not _a_ black Materia. _The_ Black Materia. There's only one in known existence, and it has the power to destroy worlds. We have to get rid of it, make sure no one ever finds it."

"Right," the assassin said. He looked past Vincent to see Yuffie getting up, adopting a combat stance. Oh, that was just lovely. She was going to side with Vincent. Like Shadow needed _that_ particular fight. Still, if it really was as dangerous as said to be, did Shadow dare leave it in a stranger's hands…?

He never got the chance to decide. Abruptly, the air began to shimmer, and a blinding light flashed. Flinching away from it, Shadow retreated two steps to the left and one step back to make sure if Vincent tried anything, he wouldn't find the assassin where expected.

The light faded, and before, where there had only been empty space between the three, now stood Kain, Fujin, Cyan and a cloaked figure Shadow had never seen before. Lying on the ground was Amarant.

The cloaked figure moved, and Shadow saw the outline of multiple arms. Too many for a normal person. By Kain's earlier description, he could only be Gilgamesh. The former mercenary said, "Good, you have the Black Materia. We have to go, _now_."

"I'm coming with you," Vincent interjected.

"Like hell you are," Gilgamesh said, but Vincent was holding up a green orb, almost mockingly. That had to be the Full Cure Materia needed to restore Amarant.

"He comes," Kain said, glaring at Gilgamesh as the man began to protest. When the four-armed man shut his mouth, the Dragoon turned to Shadow. "Did you find our final party member?"

The assassin nodded. "Rufus Shinra. He was here, but from what I've heard, he disappeared about an hour ago."

"He'll be headed to Midgar," Yuffie said. "And I want to come, too! Something big's happening, and I won't be left out."

Vincent was already bent over Amarant, using the Materia to heal their fallen comrade, but even so, Shadow moved up to the former Turk and whispered, "Do you have any more of those rubber bullets?"

Vincent stopped his ministrations for a moment, nodded, and moved in a lightning strike. His gun came out of its holster, and fired off three rounds, all striking the teenaged girl in the chest. With a loud howl, she fell to the ground.

For some reason, that made Shadow's day absolutely worth it.

"Get us out of here," Gilgamesh said, and Kain nodded, holding up his lance, readying himself to teleport them to Shinra Tower.

Author's Note:

Good. Fucking. Lord. That took ages to write, and I think it was worth it. I'm sorry for the delays. My computer's still a paperweight, and I had to literally write this one sentence at a time on a friend's. I'm sorry to say that delays will keep up for the immediate future, as my machine is out of commission, and Nisus is getting stuck up with classes and such. We apologize deeply, but at the moment, there's nothing either of us can do.

Oh, and review, please. We like those.


	24. Shinra Tower

Chapter Twenty Four

Shinra Tower

The missile blew from its casing and flared right through the glass of the building to erupt inside the room that housed the power generators. The lights flickered twice throughout the structure and then completely died, leaving the inhabitants not incapacitated by the missile blast alarmed and bewildered.

Squall swung the helicopter around on its horizontal axis down the building to face the main entrance where the amassed guards scrambled to their defensive bunkers from where they had been standing, smoking the night away.

Squall squeezed the trigger nestled beneath the control sticks and the twin machine guns blasted to life, spraying through the sandbags piled in front of the lobby and killing several of the guards instantly. The remaining sentries hoisted their weapons and returned fire on the chopper. Squall increased their altitude, firing all of the way. Bullets riddled the side of the building, devastating the interior.

One of the soldiers must have been more heavily armed than the rest; an alarm went off a moment before a missile streaked upwards and exploded into the tail of the chopper. It started to slow down, its ascension all but halted. Even as it did, the whole helicopter itself began spinning around, faster and faster.

Squall started to flick controls in an attempt to regain control of the vehicle, however Irvine's quick thinking saved both of their lives. He grabbed Squall by the shoulders and hauled him backwards out of the pilot seat. As the chopper started its final descent, Squall saw a brief flash illuminate the cockpit as the cowboy cast a spell, and then Irvine hauled open the side cargo door and threw them both out into the air.

Squall expected them to plummet to their deaths. Instead, Irvine carried on running as though they had hit solid ground; they sprinted across the open air and then crashed through one of the bullet ridden windows of the Shinra building, erupting into an inside corridor filled with guards.

The SeeD Commander groaned as he fell, slowed down by Irvine's float spell. The man would never let him hear the end of this one.

Irvine once again demonstrated astonishing quick thinking and kept running towards the wall of the corridor, sprinting up the wall, onto the ceiling and over the heads of the group of guards to their left. He swung his body around to kick the closest guard in the side of the face, and then dropped to the ground.

The Headmaster of the Garden came to his senses, drew his gunblade, and started to plough a way through the guards on their opposite side. The corridor lit up and the remaining glass rattled in its panes as their helicopter crashed to the ground and flames licked up along the side of the entire building. Irvine completed his devastating assault, grabbing the shoulders of a guard, swinging over his head and in an astounding display of agility landed his feet on the next guard's neck, and used the power in his legs to swing him from side to side into his companions.

The spell allowing him these amazing abilities evidently wore off, as he crashed unceremoniously to the ground in a heap with the defeated guards. The remaining sentry pointed his gun as if to shoot Irvine, but he himself collapsed to the floor, his chest full of bullet wounds. Squall lowered the shotgun and gasped in relief. The easy part was over; now they had to find Quistis. He tossed the gun to Irvine and they sprinted away from the scene.

* * *

Rufus frowned up at the red explosion above. Other, lesser men instinctively ducked their heads, some even yelling oaths and swear words in surprise. It was the mark of great men not to be so distracted from their cause, not to be caught up in a trivial moment. Only one other than Rufus did not make a sound. Locke Cole also merely watched the helicopter in the sky blow up, shielding his eyes a little from the sudden glare in the night sky. 

As the initial light winked out, Rufus, rifle in hand, began moving towards the Tower, regardless of his men gawking at the air above. Fifteen soldiers with him, plus Locke and Elena. Soon, though, the soldiers Yuffie had already assigned to him would begin an all out assault. He glanced at his watch. In two minutes to be exact.

Then, close as they were, past the newly erected security fences around the Tower, they would make a dash for it. Locke had cleverly managed to distract the guards watching the section, and then cut through the chain link fence with a pair of bolt cutters he'd had the foresight to request. From there, it was only a matter of using a Lightning Materia on Rufus' part to emit small electro-magnetic pulses to disrupt cameras for seconds at a time. Another plan Locke had come up with. Amazing, considering how little time he'd supposedly spent in this world. Or so he claimed.

Ducking into the shadow of a supply station, Rufus waited as Locke darted across the space of their last piece of cover to where the President stood. Search lights lit up, immediately beaming light every which way, scouting out intruders in wake of the explosion above. Rufus swore, but the thief managed to make his way across the open ground and avoided detection.

The spotlights slowed somewhat, taking on a patterned grid-like search. They lit up the area between Rufus' hiding spot and that of his remaining troops, and then vanished. He counted. For six seconds, there was no light between them. Six seconds to cross twenty feet worth of area. He took in a deep breath, waited for the light to appear again, and then hurriedly motioned one of his men to run across the space once it disappeared. The man bolted, running full tilt, and narrowly made it to Rufus in time.

Rufus let out a sharp breath of air, and only then realized he'd been holding it in the entire six seconds that the man had run to him. The light disappeared once more. Rufus motioned the next soldier.

It continued like this over the space of a few minutes. Distantly, Rufus could hear the sounds of battle as Wutaian samurai charged the ranks of former Shinra employees. They would never be able to make it past the front gates, armed with primitive weapons as they were, but they would do their damage, and provide the much needed distraction.

Soon, there were only three left, two normal guards and Elena. She would be last, covering the rear until the end. Rufus motioned with his hand, and one guard broke for it. A half second later, the second one did as well. Rufus swore.

The second man ran, stumbling and moving in an almost jerking panic. Someone had erred in bringing a coward who could break so easily into Rufus' ranks. Even as the man ran, Elena chased after him, more than likely to jerk him back to the nearest cover to prevent him from being discovered. The spotlight was headed away from them, in a hurried jerk. More than likely to spot out some Wutaian soldiers. Rufus let out a sigh of relief.

Elena jerked on the guard. The man, in a panic, screamed. Even in the distant din of battle it could be heard. The spotlight was immediately back on them, right on top of them. Gunfire rang out as the two were illumined. Both fell.

Growling, Rufus lifted his rifle, bent down on one knee, and took aim at the tower through his scope. Rufus had no intention of going into close combat today, so his shotgun, which was more effective the closer he was, had been left at Gold Saucer.

Three shots rang out. Two took guards down – one in the belly, one in the head – and the other shattered glass as the spotlight was destroyed. No time to risk blowing their cover now. That idiot guard had already done that and gotten himself killed for it. Too bad he had to take Elena with him.

He began to turn away as more spotlights began to descend on the area, hearing gunfire. Rufus ducked back into the shadows. Soon, more light illumined the fallen bodies of Elena and the nameless guard. He turned away, heading towards Shinra Tower, his rightful place.

"She's alive!" Locke cried.

Rufus glanced back, and saw that Elena did in fact stir somewhat. He frowned. More than likely, she was in critical condition. She'd need help right away. But with multiple towers now canvassing the area for intruders...

"We move on," he said.

"But she's--"

"We move on!" he growled. "We can't afford to die here over someone who might be fatally wounded."

Locke looked about to argue, but Rufus gave him his best glare, arrogant, condescending, and taunting. The self-proclaimed treasure hunter lowered his eyes. He knew the only way to his precious home was through Rufus.

The former President – and soon to be again – of Shinra smiled, a cold thing, and strode forward, confidently. If Elena was still alive once Domino was dead, he may come for her. But only if it was convenient.

* * *

Reno felt the first tremor and leapt to his feet when the lights died. He drew his pistol and marched out of the surveillance room, intuitively knowing that Quistis' friends were coming to rescue her and that he'd better get a move on if he was going to take all of the glory for this. 

He kicked open the door to the interrogation room, noted the look of surprise on Hart's face, raised his gun and shot him straight through the heart. He blinked twice, his mouth open in a wide 'O' of surprise, and then a gasp escaped his throat. He stared up at the ceiling, and fell slowly backwards until he crashed into a trolley of cutting implements and then to the floor.

"Huh. I just shot Hart's heart. That's like ironic or something, right?"

Realizing he was talking to himself, Reno gave a start and began to survey the room. There stood Cloud in the corner, imposing and silent as ever, staring at something in the distance that no one else could see. Quistis sat tied in the centre of the room, and one of the technicians from upstairs not quite cowering in the corner but certainly on edge.

He holstered his weapon after he judged everyone else as a non-threat and strode to untie Quistis. She was obviously still under the effects of the truth serum, her head lolled against her chest and she mumbled under her breath. He lifted her out of the chair after releasing her bonds and supported her on his shoulder.

His gaze swept the room as a second tremor rattled the building. He knew Cloud was useless to him, so he ignored him. He focused on the technician.

"You coming?"

She faltered for a moment, and then moved to support Quistis on the other side.

"You'll need to hold off the guards. I'll hold her."

Reno held her gaze for a moment, and then shifted the dead weight of Quistis fully onto this small girl. She held the weight well, and Reno began to feel slightly more optimistic about the situation.

"We're going out the back entrance. Do you know what I mean by that?"

The girl nodded, obviously familiar with the building.

"What's your name?"

"Avira," she said, and Reno was struck at once by how familiar she looked. He shook off the feeling and focused on the now. He nodded at the door and led Avira out. As they turned in the corridor a voice called out behind them and Reno spun, firing his weapon towards the sound. One guard fell to his death, the other took cover behind the turn in the corridor. Reno ushered Avira back along the hall and disappeared down one of the junctions.

Avira went to call the service elevator they had wandered to, but Reno caught her arm as she pressed the button.

"No…not that way."

She nodded and he led her south past a potted fern that had to be plastic to have survived this long among the devastated building. Typically tight fisted Shinra, thought Reno.

The darkness lent to their stealth, however they inevitably made some noise dragging an unconscious woman along. The first guard ambushed them as they crossed into another junction of corridors, and two things were evident. The guards had orders to catch them alive as they didn't use their guns, and Reno was ready for them as he sprang to action immediately.

He grabbed the guard's head and pressed the pistol against his chest. Two shots muffled through the armour he wore, not enough protection at such close range. A second guard attempted to get Reno in a strangle hold, but Reno stood from his crouched position, flipping the sentry over and into the wall. He drew a second weapon, aimed one behind him and one to the side and shot both the flipped guard and one charging him from the east.

Suddenly there were three guards out of the darkness, all jumping onto the Turk at the same time. Reno went down, firing as he went, killing one of the enemies. The dead guard's weight pinned him to the floor, but he kept firing, the bullets carrying through the dead man and into the next, finishing the second off. The third guard was to present the most problems.

Reno managed to haul off the two dead bodies as the remaining sentry smashed the guns out of his hands. The Turk tried to whip the guard's feet from underneath him but he jumped over his legs. Reno leaped to his feet, grabbed the guard's head and rammed it sideways into the wall. The sentry fell to the ground unconscious, however this had bought his colleague enough time to sneak up undetected behind the brawling Turk, level a taser at his back and press the trigger.

At the last second a dagger embedded to the hilt into the last guard's neck, and the shot went wide into the ceiling. Sparks showered onto the surprised Turk as he whirled to confront the newcomer.

He gaped incredulously. "Monkey boy?"

"I wish you'd stop calling me that," said Zidane, who knelt to pick up his dagger.

"Where did you come from?"

"Look, that's not important," rushed Zidane, who paced quickly to where Reno, Avira and Quistis stood. "The point is, we have to get out of here."

"Why, what's going on?"

Sweat poured from Zidane's forehead. "That's not important either. We have to get off this floor, then out of the building. Right now."

Reno studied the younger man suspiciously. "Where have you been?"

"Look, just stop asking so many questions!" Zidane almost screamed. "Get moving!"

He grabbed Reno's jacket and started leading him towards the stairs. Avira tagged along behind them until Zidane was confident Reno would carry on walking by himself and then moved to support Quistis' other side, to hurry Avira along.

"What's got you so testy?" asked Reno, speeding up by the second. He didn't take Zidane seriously generally, however the look of panic in the boy with a tail's face made him want to run, very fast.

"I said it's not important!"

"It seems to be pretty important!"

"Just keep going!"

Reno sighed, not knowing the next few seconds would house a moment he had had similar experience of. It happened when something that inspires such a feeling of terror drives itself into your brain, forever scarring the memory of the event into a place you can never forget, stretching the few seconds the event occurs in to at least several hours.

The door at the end of the corridor they had just walked along opened. The Turk absently turned with his weapons raised, almost indifferent to the sound, so confident of his ability to deal with Domino's lackeys. What he saw there as sparks from the taser lodged in the ceiling illuminated the scene through the darkness of the emergency lighting was what caused the moment.

A demon from the past, the cancer of the Planet, the invincible and unstoppable warrior who had bested every last human being except the one who now stood catatonic back in the interrogation room stood in the doorway.

Sephiroth dropped his hand from the door, using it instead to draw his blade. His silver locks swayed with the gait of a man who had just paused momentarily in striding towards his objective. Masamune gleamed in the cold light of the electrical discharge, white points of light glittering along the legendary blade. Reno absently noted that his other hand held a crumpled pile of paper – his subconscious noted that this was the transcript of Quistis' interrogation, however the major part of his brain stood frozen. The small part that functioned reasoned that Quistis had said something worth pursuing them for further clarification of, and luckily for Reno it also wrested control of his basic motor functions.

His arm reached back to his belt, while the other holstered the weapon it held. The first hand plucked a grenade from the belt. The second pulled the pin from the grenade, and the first released its grip, sending the explosive hurtling down the corridor towards the figure of Death that stood there.

He covered Quistis with his body as the grenade exploded, collapsing part of the roof. He felt the same fear that attacked Zidane, and grabbed the younger man by the collar, hauled him to his feet. In a second motion, he lifted Quistis onto his shoulders across his back, and grabbed Avira firmly by the arm.

"MOVE!" he bellowed, and the shock of the explosion instantly wore off. Zidane and Avira each drew a pistol from inside Reno's jacket, and they instantly took off at a full run down the corridor. Reno started as fast as he could after them, hearing the wreckage of the corridor start to shift behind them, and knowing that it wasn't simple gravity or more rubble making the remains of the corridor move.

* * *

The world blurred back to normal, and Kain felt momentarily dizzy. He had to suppress the urge to throw up the little food he had eaten while chasing Sephiroth. His stomach felt as if it were doing back flips. The nausea passed, and he found that others were displayed the same symptoms to one degree or another. Cyan had already emptied the contents of his last meal all over the floor, while Amarant was dry heaving. Pride appeared to be the only thing keeping Fujin from doing the same. Even Shadow and Vincent looked ill, although both were doing their best to pretend as if they weren't. Only Gilgamesh looked unaffected, but an angry expression marred his face. 

"Next time," he growled, "use the Black Materia. Your lance doesn't have the power necessary to teleport us around any longer."

"So we're walkin'," Amarant said. "Let's just find this Rufus asshole an' get out of here."

"AGREED."

Amarant and Fujin frowned at each other, partly upset and partly startled that they were of one mind on a subject.

Kain looked about the area they were in and frowned. It appeared to be a large plaza of some sort, an open reception area fit for a king, but no throne appeared to be evident. Glass doors – _glass_! The very idea seemed absurd – stood for the entrance into the lobby, and behind him were metal doors, as well as two staircases. To the side was a large counter, probably used as a desk, and between the party and the staircases were displays with odd machines on them, which appeared to be used for some form of transportation. Suddenly, Kain felt desperately like an alien. This world was by far the most different from his own that he'd encountered yet.

"Shadow?" he said.

"On it," the man responded, already moving to the front entrance, scouting the area to see what it contained. The group might have little experience together, but Kain already understood what some members' functions were.

Shadow didn't even open the doors before he was running back to the group.

"Problem?" Vincent asked.

"A small war," Shadow reported. "Samurai fighting men with guns. They appear to be well armed with... _Materia_... though, and that seems to be evening the fight. Wherever we're going, we're not going that way."

"Down!" Amarant shouted.

Everyone did so instinctively, ducking and dodging as gunfire erupted. Kain bolted for the large counter, leaping over it and ducking. The rest of the group did the same, and bullets began to pound into the metal shield.

"Saw 'em just before they got out of the elevator," Amarant said once they were all safe. "Probably came from above to help out with the fight outside."

"And they thinkest that we're their enemies?" Cyan said incredulously. "But we've done nothing to them!"

"Funny," Amarant snorted. "You look like a samurai, carry a damn katana like one, and what a coincidence? There are damn samurai outside assaulting their friends. I wonder why they thought we were enemies. Can we lose this dead weight already, Kain? Seriously, I can just pick him up and throw him at them, and maybe they'll stop shooting at us."

Cyan sputtered, but Kain said, "No one's dead weight here. They probably would have shot at us even if Cyan wasn't present. Now... suggestions on how to get out?"

There was silence save the sound of gunfire, as everyone appeared to think. A lull in the shooting sounded as men stopped to reload. Kain was somewhat thankful he'd asked Cyan to tell him something of technology he wasn't familiar with, but in hindsight, asking him had probably been a bad idea. He made a mental note to speak with Vincent about it later.

"Prithee, Sir Kain," Cyan said. "May we not use thine lance to escape from this fight?"

"It's running kind of low," he responded. "I don't think we should chance it."

"Then use the Black Materia," Gilgamesh said.

"No!" Vincent growled. "The Black Materia isn't some teleportation device like you seem to think. The last time it was used, Meteor was summoned and nearly destroyed this world."

Kain nodded. "Then we don't use that. Any other suggestions?"

Amarant supplied, "I saw a truck and a motorcycle back there. We could ride those out of here."

Shadow snorted. "Down the stairs and out the front doors? Don't be stupid. Who would do such an idiotic thing?"

"Actually, now that you mention it..." Vincent said.

Once again, the machine guns stopped, and Kain heard someone distantly say, "Get the bazookas down here!"

"What's a 'bazooka'?" he asked.

"Use the Black Materia!" Gilgamesh growled, ripping it from Shadow's hand, and giving it to Kain. "Focus on it, and imagine yourself being somewhere else. A staircase, maybe. This place is rife with them. That should be safe for now."

"If you summon Meteor by accident..." Vincent threatened, but Kain gave him a reassuring nod.

"I won't."

Kain imagined a staircase, envisioning one he was used to, all stone steps and tapestries lining the walls. From an outside source, that image was displaced, shunted from his mind, and an image of metal stairs with bland concrete walls filled his mind. He stared for a second as he realized the Black Materia itself was supplying him with the location he needed. He felt a shimmering sensation, and almost at the last second recalled the command, but it was too late.

* * *

Sprinting down the corridor, Irvine reached back and fired at the increasing number of guards filling the hallway. Squall hit the end of the corridor first, ending in a 'T' junction. He hit the end wall and bounced back to the right, facing a dead end. Fortunately, the dead end contained a service elevator. He hammered the call button, drew a borrowed weapon from a fallen guard, and shot a guard chasing Irvine as the sniper joined him. 

Several of their pursuers rounded the corner, all succumbing to the withering fire of the SeeD's weapons. The other guards remained out of the range of the targets, and Irvine made random shots down the corridor facing them to keep them at bay.

Squall started to alternate Irvine's fire to keep a more imposing rain of bullets flying down the corridor.

Irvine didn't even look at Squall. "So Float is useless."

"Shut up."

"No, I just think it's interesting that something that's useless saved our lives."

"Shut up. I hate you."

"…'Something useless saved our lives.' I mean to say that something useless let me save your life."

Squall went to answer the smart mouthed sniper, but he was suddenly struck by an inexplicable dread that stayed his tongue.

He slowly turned to face the cargo elevator doors. Something was coming down in the vehicle. He didn't know how he knew, but he did. The closer the elevator got, the surer he became of that fact. He dropped his weapon, ignoring Irvine's outraged shouts, and drew his gunblade in a defensive position. The elevator arrived at their floor and as soon as the doors started to slide open, Cloud erupted from between them, sword raised to deliver a blow that would surely have cleaved Squall in half should the SeeD not have been prepared for such an attack.

As it stood, sparks sheared from their blades as they met in a deadly embrace.

Irvine stood to turn and shoot Cloud, however the corridor exploded further away from them and soldiers started to pour through the gap. Not waiting to know if they were friendly or not, Irvine turned to shoot them instead.

Squall and Cloud, confined to the narrow sides of the corridor, engaged in a swift but brutal exchange, hurling each other into the walls and head butting each other several times. Squall was finally the one to break from the encounter, his forehead bleeding from one of Cloud's attacks.

The big blond man looked as though he would surge forward to attack Squall again, however he backed down at the last moment. A strange look came over his eyes, and he looked past Squall and into the distance. He smiled.

"I can see…" he murmured. "All of it."

His eyes locked with Squall's, and genuine hate flickered there for the moment he held the SeeD's gaze.

"Another time," he hissed, and flew forward.

Squall threw up his gunblade to defend himself, however the attack Cloud made was only a cursory one. His real objective was throwing Squall away with a shoulder barge and throwing open a door just past Irvine before the sniper could shoot him.

And then he was gone.

Totally confused, Squall grabbed Irvine by the arm and led him into the same door Cloud had just exited from. Even a cursory study of his surroundings told him that the newcomer soldiers were engaging the existing guards, and that the best move tactically was to sit it out, ride out the storm and quietly make enquiries about their target.

A group of guards stormed the corner in front of them, and Squall and Irvine punched out two of them leaving the third standing alone.

Squall grabbed the front of his vest and dragged their faces together.

"I'm only going to ask once. Where are you holding the girl?"

The guard took one look into Squall's eyes and broke instantly. "Floor forty seven."

"Good answer," said Irvine, and drove the butt of his gun into the guard's face. He crumpled unconscious to the ground.

* * *

Elena coughed, and felt blood well up in her mouth. She knew she didn't have long. One of the bullets that had hit her had grazed a lung. The other two had been gut shots. Ten minutes. Maybe fifteen, if she was 'lucky.' 

She felt helpless. More than helpless. Abandoned. Left for dead by Rufus. Left for dead by the guards that had come to see what the commotion was about. One of them had jokingly laughed that it 'served her right to bleed to death.'

It wasn't fair. This was supposed to be the mission that would give her enough money to retire. Not that she would, but it would ensure she was set for life. Rude already was. But he stuck to the job. Probably would until he died. She had no intention of doing so, but staying a little longer seemed right. Almost a way of honouring Tseng after his demise at the hands of Avalanche. Or Sephiroth. Or Jenova. Or whoever had killed him. She would have laughed if she could muster the strength for it. Not like there was even a body.

But she'd leave a body when she died. The thought made her kind of sad, but she was already beginning to accept the fact that she would be dead very shortly. Just part of her still stubbornly clung on.

Abandoned. Left behind. Rufus had _left her behind_. Probably considered her too much of a risk. The bastard.

"I think I found her, y'know?" a voice sounded.

She coughed again. Lovely. Some guards had decided to come back and make sure she was dead. Her vision was already fading, and her head swimming. Probably lack of air. That only made sense.

"Good eye," another voice said. "Yes. She's the one. Once we pick her up, we're done here."

"That makes two from this world, y'know. This world special or something?"

Elena tried to focus on the words. Individual ones made sense, but the whole meaning escaped her. 'World'? What were they talking about?

"I don't know," replied the other one. "But my ... dexterous... companion here came from my world as well. It only appears natural that we have a repeat or two."

Someone bent over her, and leaned close to her face. She could make out some features. A gentlemanly face, greyish hair. A scar or two. The man said, "Hello, Ms. Elena. My name is Siegfried, and I have an offer for you."

* * *

The door shattered on its hinges, bursting into splinters and crashing into the stairwell. Avira cocked the shotgun she had liberated from a fallen guard and walked through it. 

_Handy to have around,_ Reno thought of her in a fleeting moment. Then the not quite panic returned and he followed the girl into the more enclosed space and went to start the long climb down the stairs.

"Not that way!" shouted Zidane as the Turk took the first step down. Reno paused in disbelief and exasperation.

"What do you mean? This is the way down!"

"Yeah, but we can't go that way. We need to go up."

"Have you lost your mind? Do you know who that is following us?"

"Yes, but if you go down those stairs then you're gonna get us all killed. There's open war in the corridors of this building. We can't get past the fighting to get to the entrance. I know another way out, but it's near to the roof. I know it sounds crazy, but it's the only chance we have. We can't let him catch us. Now let's get moving!"

Reno tensed. "I am _not_ going up those stairs. I'm going down now, and you can stay here to get hacked to pieces if you want, but that's your business."

He started down the stairs. Zidane started to object, but whatever had gotten into that thick skull of his to make him cook up the crazy idea of escaping up a tower went away long enough for him to start tagging along behind.

Reno had all but jumped down three flights of stairs when a commotion below them made him stop in his tracks. Gunfire, screaming and sounds of fists hitting flesh bounced up the walls of the stairwell, and this made the Turk only briefly hesitate in plunging down further, knowing what was behind them was infinitely worse than entering a warzone. Flying shrapnel, bullets spraying wide of their targets, and two hostile forces lay ahead. At least that way, they had a chance.

On the fifth flight down, he stopped again. Footsteps were heading towards him and his small group. Preparing himself – namely, cocking his weapon and pointing it at approximately head height of an average man – he waited for the footsteps to manifest from around the bend in the stairs, which they shortly did.

He nearly shot Irvine in the face.

The sniper leaped back on reflex, covering his head with his arms, as if that would provide any protection. Squall, running up behind him, nearly went back down the stairs, but grabbed hold of the handrail when Irvine collided with him. Reno lowered his weapon, obviously not in any danger from these two buffoons.

"I'd turn back around and head down," the redhead said shortly, and brushed past them. Avira and Zidane, carrying Quistis, stopped when they reached Squall.

"Oh my God, what happened to her?" asked Squall, inspecting the barely conscious Quistis.

"They gave me a truth serum…I couldn't resist it…I told them everything…" she murmured.

"Truth serum?" asked Irvine, obviously confused.

Reno ran back up the stairs. "Yeah, truth serum. They inject you with it, and you have to tell the truth." He leaned over to Quistis. "How sexy am I?"

"Quite," she replied, and Reno glanced back at Irvine.

"See? There. Now let's go."

Squall watched the Turk head down, and then motioned the others to follow. He caught up to the man leading them.

"What's got you so agitated? You didn't even gloat about getting here before us. And you didn't put any effort into gloating about what Quistis just said."

"I get like this when I'm running for my life."

"I got the impression you were used to dangerous work."

"I am. Not like this. About five floors up there's a guy called Sephiroth, and he's coming after us for some reason. No one has ever beaten him, except for one person. And it took him everything he had to do it. We can't fight him and win, so I'm running."

"He can't be that powerful."

"Yes, he can. Just trust me on this."

Squall could see that Reno was genuinely scared, and considering his personality, he didn't seem like he got scared that often. He decided to do the sensible thing and just run with him.

"Trust is something we need to have a conversation about. From the way it looked earlier, anyone else might think you'd betrayed us to Domino."

"Save it for later. I rescued the girl, didn't I?"

"We're not out yet."

"Like I said, save it."

Squall was about to retort when the stairway in front of them became black. He considered this for a moment, thinking that the lights had simply gone out, but he stopped when he saw the light shining just above the sphere of localised darkness.

He grabbed Reno's shoulder to stop him moving forward, and he sensed the Turk tense to break free and continue down the stairs, when the sphere of black expanded and consumed more of the platform that linked the two flights of stairs. The two men dashed back to the next flat area where Irvine, Zidane and Avira stood with Quistis.

The sphere shattered, sending insubstantial shards of dark up and down the stairwell. Where the centre of the sphere had previously occupied, a mismatch group of people stood, kneeled and lay on the ground. One, a man dressed inexplicably as a dragon, held a gleaming black stone in his hand. They looked vaguely disorientated, and Reno used this to his advantage. He charged forward, grabbed the nearest new arrival by the shoulder, and pressed the muzzle of his weapon to his head.

"Get out of our way," he growled.

His hostage, a man dressed in blue, gasped and made some show of being touched. He tried to twist out of Reno's hold on him, but the Turk held it firm.

"I _will _kill you," he said in a slightly louder tone of voice. "All of you. But all we want is to get past. Now…Move. Out. Of. The. Way."

Squall bounded down the stairs with his gunblade held in front of him, and the laser wobbling around the man dressed in black's heart indicated Irvine was ready to back up the redhead as well.

"Release him," commanded the dragon-man. "And we will let you go past."

"Not a chance. We don't have time to be messing around with you guys. Now do as I say or he's dead in three seconds."

No one moved. Squall, for the first time, noticed the man with four arms standing with the new arrivals, and he was struck by the sudden memory of the night he and Irvine had started down this miserable path. After they had survived the massacre their black market deal had descended into, for what they now knew was a materia, they had found an enemy sniper dead with four wounds in his chest. It was only a guess, but a four armed man, someone dead with four precise wounds…Squall tightened his grip on the gunblade.

"One."

The man in the tattered red cloak and the metal arm exchanged a glance with the man dressed all in black. They almost imperceptibly tensed and prepared to spring forward, one towards Reno and one towards Squall.

"Tw-"

"Don't bother with the rest of your count. That man is an imbecile, a liability, and shouldn't even be here." The four-armed man spoke with such venom in his voice that even members of his own party gave him surprised glances.

"What, so I can shoot him then?" asked Reno.

"Please," said the imposing newcomer. "Do us all a favour."

Reno looked unsure for all of five seconds, and then shrugged. "Well, if you insist."

The Turk's finger tensed on the trigger, but a loud clatter from behind them shattered their collective attention. "Everyone in this stairwell will clear the way in five seconds or these two women will die."

A man dropped from the open air vent directly behind where Avira stood supporting Quistis. His rifle was trained at Avira's temple. Squall grit his teeth. "What is it with you redheads and hostage situations?"

Reno narrowed his eyes. "He's more of a strawberry blonde. But point taken."

"One."

"Wait!" called the man dressed as a dragon. The newest newcomer fixed his icy gaze on the bizarrely dressed man. "This isn't necessary. We came here to find you."

"Two."

"Will you at least listen to what I have to say?"

"Three."

"Rufus," said the man in the tatty red coat.

"Valentine."

"Boss," said Reno, in the most scathing tone of voice he could produce.

"You don't work for me anymore, Reno," said the mysterious Rufus. "By the way -- four."

"You might want to pay attention to what this man has to say," rasped the man dressed all in black.

"Does anybody care that I'm about to kill this girl?" asked Rufus.

"Not me," said the towering ape-like brute whose knuckles almost brushed the floor. "And you'd be hard pressed to find anyone who gives a crap in this crowd. Maybe you should try asking that one," he pointed a massive finger at Zidane, who was trying to make himself as small as possible against the side of the stairwell. "And after you've finished with him, I'll be wanting to ask him a few questions myself." He took a few menacing steps forward. "In fact…hell to that. How about I smear you into the floor, and then me and you can have round two?" he said to Rufus and the monkey tailed boy in sequence.

"Squall," said Reno abruptly. "Do you know what a Switcheroo is?"

The SeeD shuffled his weight minutely. "...No?"

"It's easy, it goes a little like this." The Turk wheeled around, aiming his pistol between Rufus' eyes. In the same moment, the surprised Squall slammed Cyan into the wall, pressing his gunblade to his throat, and Rufus produced a smaller weapon to the one he was carrying and levelled it at the Turk.

"You used to work for me, you idiot. I know all of the Turk operational jargon."

"As do I," said Vincent.

Reno looked out of the corner of his eye. The wraith-like man had, undetected, moved so his rather large weapon almost touched the back of Reno's head.

"God dammit."

"ENOUGH!" proclaimed a voice from the back of Kain's group.

"Is that who I think it is…?" asked Irvine, his rifle still aimed at the man in black's heart.

"This is a very strange day," said Squall. "How've you been, Fu - "

"SILENCE!"

"Really? Us too," said Irvine. "Nice seeing you."

Rufus said through a cold smirk, his weapons never wavering. "I agree with the albino. Enough. I'm going to pass through this little get together now."

"I beg to differ," said yet another new arrival's voice further up the stairs.

Reno sighed in exasperation. "This is getting ridicul…"

He trailed off as he realised who had spoken. Standing majestic at the top of the stairs, was Sephiroth.

* * *

Author's Note: 

Once again, we'd like to thank those of you who have stuck through the delays and whatnot. We're not just writing this for ourselves and for a pat on the back. There's a story to be told, and while we're telling it, you're listening. So, thank you for that. Next, we'd both like to thank **Macky**, **Killer Chocobo**, **Alpha2Omega**, and **Wolven Falls**. We appreciate your feedback.

This chapter was originally supposed to be longer, but we decided to cut it short here, and continue the rest of it in the next chapter. So, this way, you get part of the story sooner, and don't have to wait as long on us lazy bums. I mean, us terribly busy people with broken computers and university and jobs and such.

Yeah. That's the ticket.

Anyway, review when you're done. We very much appreciate it.


	25. Shinra Tower, Part II

Elena stared at the countryside more than a little wide-eyed. She felt almost like a country bumpkin seeing a city for the first time, but it was truly the other way around. She was a life-long city dweller, seeing what the true beauty of nature really looked like. She'd always heard of flowers while living in Midgar, but they'd almost seemed a myth of sorts. Even above the Plate, all you really found were just the cheap imitation kind. When she'd been stationed in Junon, she'd once seen a rose, and remembered what it looked and smelt like for many days to come. When she'd been sent abroad, out of the desolate cities made barren by Mako extraction, she saw endless fields of grass, something that she'd only imagined in stories, and flowers. She tried to bring some back to Midgar with her, but quarantine had taken them, despite even Tseng demanding that she be allowed to keep them. When she'd been sent on vacation to Wutai, she'd been astounded. An entire continent untouched by Shinra's Mako reactors. It'd been the most beautiful place she'd ever seen. Until now. Here, in this place, even after having seen the fantastic gardens and meadows of Wutai, made all the beauty she'd ever seen in her life seem as dirty as Midgar itself.

Flowers of every colour and hue were everywhere. Their vibrant and amazing colours encompassed the entire spectrum, and not even the sky, which appeared to be in a perpetual sunset, could dare compete with it. Waterfalls spraying the purest of water cascaded down the sides of endless mountains, into a forever abyss of roiling clouds below. At that, Elena shuddered, for every time she looked off the edge of the cliff she stood on, she could see no solid ground. Beneath her and her companions was surely only emptiness.

The only thing that chilled her more were the beautiful sparks that flew about all around her and her new allies. Everywhere they travelled, those tiny flashes of light left wakes of colour and an aura of melancholy.

"What's this dump called again?" a voice rumbled, a disgusting sound that resembled something wet and fatty being squished.

Elena frowned at her companions. She didn't know what to make of half of them, and the other half she wanted almost nothing to do with. The one who had spoken, a purple mass of tentacles that were supposed to be arms and legs, was called Ultros. Ultros spent most of his time complaining or swearing revenge against various people who weren't present to hear the threats, and announcing himself as the 'Great and Mighty Land Octopus,' saying that everyone should fear and respect him. No one present did.

"The Farplane," came Siegfried's answer. "Or that is what my rapier told me."

Elena had no clue about Siegfried. At times, the man looked strong and noble, with an air of superiority to him. At others, he looked haunted and afraid, almost too scared to rest in fear of something that might come for him. Elena hoped that the terror Siegfried frequently tried to mask did not indicate what kind of leader this 'Mr. Ajuk' was that had been mentioned in his whispers while he slept.

"Remind me again how your rapier talks to you," Lani said. Even though she commented, Elena could already tell the dark-skinned teenager was not listening. The girl with the over-sized axe appeared to have some form of ADD, her mind frequently flitting from one thing to the next. How she became such a prominent mercenary, or so she liked to brag, was anyone's guess.

"He told us a dozen times already," Lucrecia said with a roll of her eyes. "We don't need to hear it again."

Lucrecia Crescent, the love of Vincent Valentine's life. Valentine had been everything a Turk ever strove to become. Cold, efficient, and professional. A man who had forever written himself into the mythos that was the Turks. All until he'd met the woman and sacrificed everything for her, including his career and his humanity. What little of it remained. No one was sure on the details, but some time thirty years ago, Vincent Valentine had gone missing, Lucrecia had given birth to Sephiroth, and neither of the two had aged a day. The entire thing made Elena shudder.

"Well, I didn't get it, y'know?" Raijin said. Elena didn't know much about the man. Like most of her companions, he seemed the type to brag about himself, but he oddly kept silent about the matter. When pressed, he'd mention an old posse, and two old friends, and then quickly clam up and elaborate no further on the subject. Elena was almost thankful for that. Raijin's voice and speech patterns annoyed the hell out of her. Y'know?

"Ssh," Siegfried said. "I need quiet. I have to summon him."

"Summon who?" Lani asked, almost eager.

"Whom," Ultros said.

Elena frowned, and retorted, "No, I'm pretty sure it's 'who.'"

Lani gave a nod of agreement to Elena, and then stuck her tongue out at the large 'Land Octopus.' He waved several tentacles at her threateningly. The Turk made a mental note to count how many he had. It appeared far more than eight, like a normal octopus should have.

Siegfried growled, "Does it matter whose grammar is correct? Do you really think our enemies bicker like this? No. They don't! They prepare themselves and work efficiently as a team, as we must if we're to defeat them. Ajuk charged me to gather his 'Seven', to equal their number, and kill them. And we shall."

"Why's this our problem?" Lani asked.

"All of you have something to gain," Siegfried said. "Lucrecia – did Vincent Valentine not lie to you, tell you that you beloved son was dead?"

"He did," she said, a cold look on her face.

"And did he not then sneak behind your back and kill him?"

"He did."

"Elena," the man said, rounding on her and pointing. "Did Rufus Shinra not abandon you for dead? Was he not abusive in your dealings beforehand?" She nodded, but he had already moved on. "Ultros! Cyan Garamonde travels with them. Do you remember his sword slicing into your tentacles? Raijin, your chance to kill the one who destroyed your posse is now! Fujin is with them. And Lani, don't tell me you've forgotten Amarant Coral's betrayal. How he robbed you of your bounty, left you to rot in Madain Sari, with nothing but _Moogles_ to keep you company?"

"Yeah, we get all that," Raijin said. "But what're you gettin' out of this? And what's this Ajuk guy gettin' out of it, y'know? "

"I'm getting Shadow," the man said through clenched teeth. "And as for Ajuk... who cares?"

"I care," came a new voice, and Elena and the others whirled about, their attention diverted from Siegfried.

The man who emerged was easily one of the most beautiful Elena had ever seen. His features were perfect in every way, like something an artist had lovingly sculpted from marble. His arms and chest were perfectly toned with strong muscle, but not so much as to dominate him. His hair was long, and seemed to possess a grace of its own. Its blue shine even made the flowers of the Farplane look dull. But his eyes, and that smile... both were so cold, ever so cold.

"Seymour," Siegfried, half a question, half a greeting.

The man frowned, and then said, "Maester. Maester Seymour. I am not without my titles, and I won't have riff-raff forgetting them. What do you want of me?"

"An offer. We wish you to join us."

"Oh, and I suppose you can offer me revenge?" the man said mockingly. "Do you have the son of Jecht and the Lady Summoner Yuna all trussed up for me to destroy? Do you think that will entice me, as it has these others? I can stay here, and wait for them to live out their lives and die themselves, and then spend my days and nights tormenting them once they arrive. This is the Farplane. This is my domain. I am already dead, Sent here to spend eternity. I am just a shade of what I was. Can you give me life? Can you offer me that?"

"Yes," Siegfried said plainly.

Seymour's perfect features contorted, and he said almost condescendingly, "Liar. There is no way in all of Spira to return to the living once one has been Sent here."

"Yes there is," the mercenary said. "My rapier tells me that you have seen one enter and leave this place."

"Yes," Seymour said. "The silver-haired one with the sword. He had _such_ an aura about him. A type of energy I had never felt before."

"Sephiroth," Siegfried said. "That is who you saw. He was able to enter here by a portal. A portal only certain people can use. Ajuk has not told me much, but the four Guardians of the Cetra may use them, as well as the Four Chaoses of Jenova. And, apparently, so can some of their pawns. Myself, for instance. A man named Ajuk, another man named Kain Highwind, and of course, Sephiroth."

Each time Siegfried said the silver-haired warrior's name, she shuddered. How could he speak of it so calmly? He and the others – save Lucrecia – claimed to be from different worlds, but even know a tenth of what Sephiroth was capable of should send any rational man under his covers with dread. What had she gotten herself into, allying with these people?

_Life_, she reminded herself. Something that following Rufus Shinra would certainly never have given her.

Siegfried continued, "Sephiroth was dead. Dispersed into the Lifestream, ready to be... recycled, as I understand it, into a new being. Or new beings. I don't fully understand it myself. But, before he could be fully separated, something... _shifted_... between the dimensions. Something anomalous happened, but what, I'm not sure. Portals opened up. And Sephiroth was able to deposit himself here, in the Farplane. And using the energy he was still made up from by the Lifestream, and using the pyreflies here, which I understand you're made up of... well, he was able to take on a new form. Not alive, but not dead, either."

"But still not alive," Seymour said, his voice weary and bored. "Is there a point to this?"

"Yes. A combination of Lifestream and pyreflies. Like I said, he wasn't fully alive when he left. He still needs something else, or perhaps several components, to become complete, but he was able to leave this area. If someone were to supply you with a sample of the Lifestream--"

"Which you have," Seymour interjected. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be bothering me. I'll cut you to the quick. You wish me to... _serve_..." the word seemed almost an obscenity coming from his lips, as if the very notion was the most offensive in the whole of creation, "... you, and in exchange you will give me this 'Lifestream' so I may live again and extend my reach to all of Spira?"

"Help me destroy Kain Highwind, and you may return here and do whatever you wish."

The man smiled, ever so coldly, but it didn't touch his eyes. "Agreed."

Elena couldn't help but shudder. Somehow, something in her very core screamed, as if what was happening could not be allowed to pass. Her companions, however contemptible, were not evil, just 'grey', as she was. But something about this Maester Seymour...

She focused her mind on Rufus Shinra. As long as she could kill him for leaving her to die, nothing else mattered.

Chapter Twenty Five

Shinra Tower, Part II

"It's 'who', not 'whom'," the one identified as Amarant reaffirmed.

"Listen," Reno blathered. "I know my damn grammar, okay? It's 'whom,', so _shut up. _Besides, I have the gun. That makes me right by definition."

"Not from where I'm standing," Vincent said, deliberately shifting his weapon, emphasizing that it was still aimed at Reno himself.

Rufus near dropped his rifle and pistol right then and there. He was surrounded by idiots. He had to be. Caught up in the biggest stand off since the Midgar/Wutai war, one that _Sephiroth_, the man who had tried to destroy the planet, was a part of, and these idiots were arguing the finer points of grammar. If only all of Rufus' enemies were this stupid. Then he could truly rule the world.

After Elena had been shot, Rufus and his small band had managed to get to the cooling substation, and began their journey through Shinra Tower's air vents. Why his former Tower had air vents large enough for people to crawl through, Rufus didn't know, but he'd already amended that when he killed Domino, every vent would be replaced so such a thing could never happen again. It had been a long and arduous trip, one covered in sweat and grime, two things that Rufus despised. He was glad that part of the 'siege' was done with.

After a short trip through the tunnels, Rufus had ordered Locke to stop at a communications' station and begin to monitor for Domino's whereabouts. He was their objective. The man was given instructions that when he was finished, he was to rendezvous with Rufus and the other guards on this very floor at the stairwell. Too bad it had turned out so poorly.

He began to wonder where Locke and his guards were when he realized he was in fact replaying the events leading up to this ridiculous situation in his mind. He didn't need to remember who had spoken incorrectly and who had corrected who. Whom. Was it 'whom'? Rufus almost howled in frustration. The idiocy was apparently infectious. The soon-to-be President of Shinra hoped that Sephiroth was every bit as capable of catching the dreaded 'Stupid Virus'.

All that was important was getting out of this place alive. But no one seemed to want to move. Even Sephiroth appeared oddly hesitant, surveying the large group of capable warriors before him. Not even the great General of Midgar could handle these. Surely they'd suffer losses, but in a battle with those facing him, even he would succumb.

Or would he?

That thought plagued Rufus, nagging at him. If Sephiroth charged, there was no guarantee that he'd walk away alive. Where was Locke? Where were his guards?

As if the thought summoned them, Locke dropped from the vent shaft behind him, landing gracefully, while the grate above and behind Sephiroth clattered to the ground, and uniformed men dressed in the colours of Gold Saucer, wearing Shinra's insignia on their armbands dropped down, all instantly levelling pistols and rifles at the silver-haired warrior.

"Time's up," Rufus said. "My advantage. Now, do you surrender? All of you?"

Sephiroth's smirk was the only warning anyone received. He was an inhuman blur, an instrument of death as he swung Masamune in a wide arc and cut down two guardsman behind him. Or were they in front? Sephiroth spun so quickly it was difficult to tell. Immediately he was pushing the opposite way, cutting gracefully at the enemies nearest him. The one called Amarant let out an animal-like howl of rage, and moved forward like the simian that he appeared to be. One fist lashed forward at Sephiroth, the knuckles of it covered with a weapon that almost looked like a gem-studded shield with a wicked spike on the end. Sephiroth almost contemptuously parried the attack, and moved to counter, if not for the whirling chakram disk that flew at his head. The silver-hair warrior parried it, sending it hurtling away with such force that it drove into the wall. The one who hard hurled it – the albino – made some effort to try to pull it out.

The aging samurai struck then, shoving the youth wielding the curious looking sword away from him, and drew his sword in one motion. He made no effort to attack, but the bared blade showed that he had no intention of letting anyone past him. Reno, ever the man disgusted by swordplay in the face of firearms, shot at the old man. In one quick stroke, to Rufus' amazement, the samurai deflected the bullet with his sword.

Rufus made sure to keep his guns trained where they were, to make sure something similar did not happen to him and his hostages. He made a slight turn of his head towards Locke, but didn't take his eyes from the people he watched. "Report."

Elsewhere, Sephiroth was still moving. The narrow staircase made it so that only one or two people could attack him from either side. The red-haired brute was still attacking, clearly skilled, but still outmatched. If not for the guards on the other side of Sephiroth, he'd likely be dead at that moment.

"Move!" the man in all black behind him growled. Rufus remembered him as 'Shadow' from the Gold Saucer arena.

Shots fired as Rufus' soldiers attempted to empty clips into Sephiroth. The Soldier managed to somehow not only block the deadly barrage of bullets, but deflected them straight back at the men who'd fired them, riddling them with their own ammunition. Even as two more of Rufus' men fell, Amarant moved back and ducked with a comment that sounded, "Switch up," and Shadow somehow _leaped_ over top the seven foot tall brute and landed gracefully on the steel stairs. Two long daggers, nearly short swords, were in his hands seemingly out of nowhere, and he began to attack Sephiroth with amazing speed and vigour. All of which Sephiroth somehow blocked, while at the same time blocking incoming sword strokes from Rufus' soldiers on the other side of him.

Locke said quietly, so no one else could hear, yet loudly enough to be heard over the din of battle, "Domino made a radio transmission about five minutes ago to get his private helicopter fuelled and ready to depart. He was told it would take fifteen. He'll be on the roof."

The man dressed as a blue dragon began to hunch down, his whole body tensing. Rufus frowned. What in the world could he be--?

The man abruptly launched upwards, sailing high overhead, his spear-like weapon leveled at Sephiroth. Even the silver-haired General seemed surprised at this attack, but quickly recovered. A fierce sword-stroke caught the dragon-man's spear, pushing him off course and over, falling directly into the Shinra soldiers assembled behind him, taking them out of the fight.

"We need to get to the roof," Rufus growled. "But how? We'll never be able to get past this madness."

With the Shinra soldiers out of the way, Sephiroth was free to concentrate his attacks on Shadow. The ninja, skilled and quick as he was, found himself hard pressed just to parry and dodge every neat slice and cut made his way.

Amarant was moving down the stairs until he was by Cyan's side. He shoved the samurai out of his way, and looked to the youth with the odd scar on his face. "You look tough," the red-head declared. "What's your name?"

"Amarant!" Cyan said. "Does this seemest the time to be making acquaintances? These men art our enemies!"

"No, they ain't. Not really, anyway. So, kiddo, you tough? You got stones?"

The dragon-man had scrambled up at that point, and lunged at Sephiroth from behind, but somehow the man seemed to anticipate it, as if he had eyes in the back of his head. The attack was easily parried, and immediately Kain set himself into a focused attack pattern, wielding his spear almost like one would wield a quarterstaff, the weapon a blur of motion, both bladed and blunt end striking out. Still Sephiroth managed to parry the attacks from both front and behind.

"Whatever," the scarred youth said, but Amarant gave him a shove on the shoulder.

"We don't know each other," the man said. "But we gotta work together. Y'see that asshole up there?" He jerked a thumb at Sephiroth. "That man's one tough son of a bitch, and coming from me, that's saying a lot. Now, he might hack through my friends--" the one that looked sort of like a monkey-boy began to snicker at the use of the word 'friends' from this ape, "--and if he does, that means he's your business. And then you get to deal with him. So you either help now, while we still have numbers over him, or you get to face him alone later. Your call, kid. So, you got 'em? You got the stones?"

"Yes," he said. "And my name is 'Squall.'"

"Good. I got an idea from Kain there." He abruptly grabbed Squall by the shoulder, lifted him up, and said, "You ready?"

"For what?" he said, sounding a bit startled, but not frightened at the suddenness of Amarant's grab.

"This!" the red-haired man said, and hurled the youth forward like a missile.

Squall flew through the air, making surprising speed. To his credit, the man immediately compensated, switching his odd weapon to a one-handed grip and readied it to strike against Sephiroth. The silver-haired warrior, however, had already nearly been stricken in this manner. Human projectiles were now no longer such a surprise. Without any hesitance at all, he moved his sword to cleave Squall in two.

The young man, however, also seemed to realize that this would happen. One hand lifted up, and a bolt of fire erupted from it. Sephiroth changed his posture immediately, going defensive, raising his sword to defend his face from the unexpected switch in tactics. The Fire spell merely puffed out as soon as it struck the sword, obviously of the weakest calibre of magic, meant more as a distraction than anything else. Shadow and the dragon-man moved in even as Squall crashed bodily into the old General. Somehow, even with the sudden weight of a teenager colliding into him, Sephiroth managed to parry Shadow's strokes, but could not defend himself from the dragon-man. The blade of his spear slashed open his back in an upward thrust. Sephiroth let out a hiss, and a surge of magical energy erupted. As Rufus shielded his face from it, the blonde woman, even as injured as she seemed, made her move on him, driving one heeled boot in a forward kick directly into his groin. Rufus let out a groan of pain, and nearly blacked out.

He was on his knees. He was aware of that. He managed to open his eyes, forcing them from their clenched position, and looked at where Sephiroth had been. The Soldier was gone, the area around the dragon-man, Shadow and Squall empty. Upwards they looked, and Rufus was forced to gaze up, too.

Above them all was a giant hole, one that led all the way to the roof, opening up the night sky before them all. Had Sephiroth somehow escaped through that...?

Fujin whistled, and Amarant grunted, "Damn. I thought you were the only one who could do those Dragoon leaps, Kain."

"Do we follow?" Vincent asked, and the dragon-man, now identified as Kain, nodded his head.

"We follow." He lifted his spear, gazing at the broad head point, then held it out to everyone standing on the stairs. "He can bleed. If he can bleed, he can die. My people, come with me. And Amarant... grab Rufus."

The soon-to-be President of Shinra could make no motion of defense as the large ape-like man grabbed him and slung him over his shoulder, making sure to pick up the dropped guns from the ground and held them in one large hand.

* * *

Sephiroth was the ultimate warrior. He knew that, something that did not cause his ego to inflate, as it might have done a mere mortal. He was so much more than that now. Thanks to his…"father's" influence, and because of the gifts his Mother had given to him.

Jenova cells, given to him while he was still in his mother's – his birth mother's – womb, allowed him greater physical ability, and now that he had died…the mental aspect of Jenova's gift had become forefront.

He had been able to project a physical manifestation of himself into the world from the grave. Now, he could walk around as if he were alive. His heart did not beat, oxygen was not required by his lungs and no food or water had passed his lips. But despite this he was more powerful than the combined forces of the pitiful men and women arrayed against him.

They simply had more numbers. When the battle had become troublesome, he had tactically withdrawn through the ceiling. The normal people crowded around the hole in astonishment, but to someone of Sephiroth's ability, leaping ten feet into the air and through a foot of concrete and steel was no great task.

He could _feel_ them writhing around beneath him, swarming up the stairs and towards him. He wasn't concerned; he had another objective that needed his attention. If every one one of them stood in his way, it wouldn't affect the outcome of his actions. Failure was not a consideration.

He swept up the remainder of the stairs, and into what was left of the reception area of the Presidential Office.

The last time he was here, he had cut a bloody swathe through the Shinra guards and left a trail of blood so thick he was sure that the stains hadn't been entirely removed from the carpet yet. Now, it wasn't necessary to leave such a trail. No-one following him mattered.

Entering the President's Office, he almost felt a pang of nostalgia. Here was where he had butchered President Shinra like a hog, destroying one of his opponents in one fell swoop. His son had proved minimally problematic, however Shinra had never recovered from the strike Sephiroth had dealt his former employer in this room.

His target stood defiantly in the centre of the room, positioned so Sephiroth could see what was placed on the desk.

"Poetic," he murmured. The former Mayor Domino lay splayed across the large construct, a buster sword emerging from his chest in much the same way he had left the President.

"I'm glad you approve," said his opponent.

"There leaves just one problem with this arrangement," he continued. "Your weapon is firmly entrenched within that corpse. How do you plan on fighting me?"

Blonde, spiky hair bobbed across to the dead man, and lurched as his enemy wrenched the massive sword from the body. It made a wet, crunching sound as it withdrew.

"Much better."

The defiant figure of Cloud Strife turned to face his oldest adversary. "Isn't it, though?"

Sephiroth's brow furrowed slightly. As a part of his modified genetic heritage, he had the ability to sense a person's identity, and see their aura. A low level telepathy, one might refer to it as, but closer to 'knowledge-at-a-glance.' However, Cloud's aura was different to any of the others he had encountered. Silver strands reached from his limbs, guiding his movements. He smiled.

"I see not much has changed. You are still…a puppet. Perhaps more so now than before."

Cloud sneered. An ugly expression. "No one guides my movements. I am in kontrol of my own destiny."

"Perhaps. But perhaps not." Cloud's mind blurred before him. He could touch his enemy's identity, but it was hazy, difficult to see. Perhaps he had become more powerful in Sephiroth's absence, being able to partially negate his Jenova endowed abilities.

He shook off his train of thought with a slight movement of his head. "Enough of this. We are about to receive guests. Do you wish me to kill you now, or before our imminent audience?"

"You will not kill me. You will try, but you will not succeed. You are not able to defeat me. You have no idea how far my power now reaches."

"Very well. We will wait for our witnesses."

Almost on cue, the bumbling fools from downstairs massed into the room, encircling the duo.

Sephiroth let their identities wash over him, assessing who was more of a threat than the others.

Irvine Kinneas. Cyan Garamonde. Fujin Kochi. Quistis Trepe. Locke Cole. These did not concern him. They would die after their contemporaries. Amarant Coral. Gilgamesh. Two men he had already fought, and found wonting. Kain Highwind. Vincent Valentine. Squall Leonhart. Shadow. These men posed the most threat, and would be among the first casualties. Now that he was not confined to a stairwell, he anticipated minimal difficulty in dispatching these fools.

Rufus Shinra. The circle of irony was completed. He would save this man for last, and gut him like he did his father.

Before any of that, though, he had to deal with Strife.

"Are you ready to finish this?" he asked.

"More than ready."

Sephiroth addressed the rest of the room without removing his gaze from Cloud. "Do not interfere. I will deal with all of you shortly."

Cloud flew at him. Faster than he had expected. Much faster.

The buster sword came in high, and Sephiroth didn't even bother to move his weapon. Using his free hand, he grabbed Cloud's forearm and smashed the butt of Masamune into his opponent's chest.

Cloud recoiled, shaking his arm free of Sephiroth's grip. His next strike clashed with Sephiroth's blade, sparks scattering onto the ground as they twisted into a fatal embrace. Sephiroth shoved Cloud away, trying to get more breathing room, but Strife absorbed the push, beating at Sephiroth's body with his own free hand.

Cloud was startlingly capable. Sephiroth found himself starting to struggle against the puppet's attacks, affecting his own ability as he had to re-evaluate his opponent as they fought. Cloud anticipated Sephiroth's every move, almost appearing to know where each of Sephiroth's attacks would strike before he had even moved.

He could feel confusion and awe rolling off the assembled crowd around them, at the sight of one man beginning to overpower who had bested their collective strength just moments ago.

Cloud's victory seemed assured when he slipped past Sephiroth's defences and sliced the fabric of the powerful being's shirt. Shocked, Sephiroth grabbed his opponent's shoulders and pushed with all his might.

Cloud staggered backwards, seemingly unprepared at the use of all of Sephiroth's physical power. He tripped on a piece of fallen debris and collapsed against the desk.

Sephiroth was amazed to feel himself tiring against a single enemy. Had he required to breathe, it would surely be coming faster in his chest now.

"Enough," he said. Cloud looked up at him self assuredly, rising slowly and confidently from the ground. "I don't know what you are, but I will not be bested by you."

He summoned a power locked deep within him, planning to squash this man like a small insect. Cloud's eyes widened as he realised what Sephiroth was planning.

He began to sparkle with a green energy that shimmered from him. The power flooded through him, enhancing his Jenova abilities. Almost as if hearing whispers in his own ear, the sounds of the thoughts of the fools about him echoed in his ears like the soft wing beats of a multitude of butterflies.

"He's--" Kain.

"What..?" Irvine.

"SPELL?" Fujin.

"Shit," Reno.

"--going to--" Shadow.

"--escape!" Zidane.

"Ultima," Amarant.

"Quistis--!" Squall.

"--want to go home!" Locke.

"Bastard," Rufus.

"Down!" Vincent.

"Time," Cloud.

"Black Materia," Gilgamesh.

Sephiroth's eyes widened upon hearing this last thought. He expanded the scope of his spell to include the room – the entire building, if need be. His hunger for power multiplied his magic intent, greedily consuming everything in its path. He would annihilate everything in the world and take that Black Materia. Nothing would stop him.

* * *

All his life, Amarant Coral had wanted the fight. Not some war where he could stand victorious over multitudes of corpses, like some conquering king or queen. That was just wasteful, and Amarant wouldn't be caught dead leading anyone or anything. He was his own man. His life was his own, and no other's. Responsibility was not his lifestyle.

He didn't want some meaningless fight against some sort of tyrannical villain bent on destroying everything, either. Although, for a time, that had been his destiny. He didn't even want some random fight against some unknown monster or man, found wherever it was convenient, just for the thrill of it. But again, for a while, that had been Amarant's life. No, what Amarant Coral really wanted was not _a_ fight, but _the_ fight. Whether it was done in the name of good or evil, the massive monk would always be searching for the fight.

And when he met Sephiroth, he understood for the first time what _the_ fight really was. That silver-haired warrior was the fight. His knuckles to the man's steel, his muscle to the man's speed. Sweat, and blood, and dirt, and that need to live on afterwards, to ultimately prove that you were the victor over your opponent. _The_ opponent. Kuja had been the threat to his world, but Kuja had never been the fight. That man had been the worst kind of opponent to Amarant, a man who depended on magic and manipulation and the lives of others to do his fighting for him.

Amarant Coral was not a righteous man. Nor was he even a moral man. His life was the fight. But having fought Sephiroth twice now, he realized one thing above all else. Sephiroth had to be stopped. Not for the purpose of the fight. But for the sheer fact that such an unbelievable killing machine such as him should never be allowed to exist.

All this flitted through Amarant's head as the top floor of Shinra Tower exploded in a mass of green energy. Shell magic was cast, absorbing less than half the destructive quality of the Ultima magic. Both Squall and Fujin seemed to have looks of intense concentration, keeping those spells up as everything around them was blasted and shunted with green waves of destruction. Amarant tried to keep his ground, barely managing it as others around him flew backwards in the wake of such an onslaught.

He could already feel it coursing inside of him. His body was absorbing the magic, letting its very nature into him. It was a purely instinctive and reactionary thing, barely controlled, a discipline few others knew. Its how he recognized the spell for what it was. On his world, Ultima looked so different, a wave of pink and purple energy in a beautiful display of carnage-inducing fireworks. Here, it was a sickly green, more resembling intense flames.

Amarant felt something sting his arm as he so desperately attempted to keep the magic inside his body. He ground his teeth, and looked down, even as he tried keeping his ground. Wrapped about his arm was the leather thong of a whip. Holding on to the other end of it so desperately was the weak-looking blonde waif from the other group that looked almost useless in a fight. During the blast, she must have fallen into the hole Sephiroth blasted open and jumped through to get into this room. Amarant nearly jerked at the whip with his other hand and let it fall as a reactionary response. Instead, he hoisted his arm even as a battle was being fought inside his own body. The girl was launched upwards and out of the hole, and landed unceremoniously on the ground. She stumbled away, towards her own party.

Amarant's blood felt on fire. His muscles strained, and his very spirit felt as if it was being torn asunder. He wasn't sure if he had the magical acumen to handle such a spell, never mind try to contain it for any period of time. Return Magic simply didn't work that way. If the mercenary was hit by a spell, his body would immediately mimic its casting and immediately fire off a copy of said spell back at its original caster.

But the barest glance could tell the room wasn't capable of sustaining another blast of Ultima. The walls were charred, green fire licking up their lengths. Windows were blown out, and walls cracked. But worst of all, the hole Sephiroth had earlier made in the floor and that the blonde woman had fallen through had widened, and fracture points all along the floor began to form and split.

Sephiroth had a superior smirk on his face as the dust cleared. To one side of the hole stood Squall and his group. To the other, Kain and his. Rufus was being held by Cyan, who had a sword blade across the man's throat. And in the center, standing before the hole, was Amarant himself.

"The Black Materia," Sephiroth said. "I know you have it. Give it to me."

"No," Kain and Vincent said simultaneously.

Sephiroth glanced from Vincent to Kain, and the smirk widened. "So the Dragoon has it," he said, as if to himself. "I had thought for certain the four-armed one did, the Materia being at the forefront of his mind as it was."

"You can't have it," Vincent said, his pistol levelling threateningly.

"Then I'll take it."

"No," Amarant growled.

Sephiroth didn't even bother to look Amarant's way, just said, "And you think you can stop me?"

"Yes," the mercenary said. Talking was painful. He could feel the spell in his nerves, in his blood. It was begging to be released. "I have something... that belongs to you."

Sephiroth diverted his glance to Amarant, as if just noticing a fly. And his eyes widened just enough for the monk to notice.

"Back off," he growled.

"If you release that," Sephiroth warned, "you'll die."

"No. _We'll _die. We'll all die. If the spell doesn't kill us, the floor giving out on us will. So, how do you wanna play this?"

The silver-haired warrior seemed to study him, weigh him and his words, and the power Amarant was barely holding onto. Just to emphasize his point, the mercenary held one hand, palm out, at the floor, directed at a large crack that extended nearly to Sephiroth's own feet.

The man didn't back away, but he didn't advance, either. But his sword lowered slightly, dipping in an almost sign of surrender, but not quite. The way he stood, it was almost as if he considered it not a loss, just a victory that hadn't been achieved yet.

Slowly, Amarant shuffled himself towards Kain and the others, who were already getting close to each other to allow the Dragoon to teleport them. Affording a glance in the other direction, the mercenary noted that the other feebs seemed to be preparing more for battle than to escape. Of course, they didn't completely know what Amarant was up to.

With each step the monk took, he began to noticed he was glowing. First, it was barely there, but by the time he reached his compatriots, it was almost as if his skin was on fire with green flame. It felt it, too.

Kain held up the Black Materia and focused on it.

"Not yet," Amarant rasped.

And he raised one hand and let the Ultima spell loose at Sephiroth. He smirked as he can his companions faded away from this world.

* * *

Squall watched as their counterparts across from their circle gathered around the dragoon, who after protesting held up a shiny black orb, enveloped them in darkness and disappeared.

"Oh man, Squall, what are we gonna do?" asked Irvine.

There were literally seconds to think. His mind processed everything around him. Reno was cursing. The quiet girl Reno had found pulled Quistis towards them. Irvine yammered in his ear. Cloud had sunken into a trance, staring straight ahead at nothing, past the superhuman glowing with imminent magical energy. Sephiroth stood with green fire burning at his hands, a green aura surrounding him. He was trying to contain the blue giant's spell, but instantly it became apparent that he wasn't going to hold it forever. The magic pushed violently at its invisible prison, itching to escape.

Zidane. He was shouting for his attention. He was shouting for him to come his way. He was shouting there was a way out.

Without even considering the action, he gathered up Quistis in his arms and ran towards the monkey-tailed youth.

"Where?" he demanded.

Zidane sprinted through the large broken window behind the desk and the SeeD followed, hoping the others were behind him.

The boy stopped at the edge of the balcony. "Over there."

"What? Are you crazy?" protested Irvine.

A high-pitched whine built up in the office behind them, and a green mist descended upon the room, spilling out into the open air of the balcony.

"No time, there's a portal, just jump!" exclaimed Zidane, and he leaped from the side of the building. Irvine rushed to watch his descent, but he had vanished. He looked to Squall for verification.

"Just do it!" he cried, and handed Quistis to Irvine. He looked back as the sniper dropped from the roof. Cloud still stood entranced in the office.

Without stopping to think, he ran back and pulled the man by the shoulder. By motor reflex, Cloud half ran half staggered next to Squall. The whine hit a high note, and Squall felt static fill the air around him. The others were gone – he prayed they had all jumped, as he leaped out into the air dragging Strife with him.

For a horrible moment he plummeted through nothing but air, and then the world went green and then white in sequence. Then black as the Ultima spell hit him.

* * *

Little did Rufus realise that as he had considered the ease in which he had invaded the tower via the air ducts, another was crawling around in the vents and making his escape.

Red was a lot better suited to it than Rufus, and was able to make much better time.

He had been spotted only once – not including after he had pounced on the guards in the communications station – and that was as he was crawling back into the vent. His mission had been a success; to deactivate the tracker they had undoubtedly placed in Quistis, and he was on his way out of the building when a surprised yell emanated from behind.

Shocked, as his keen hearing allowed him to pick up even the slightest sound, he turned to confront the stranger and the two of them stood facing each other. The silent man had a dagger poised to throw at Red.

He waved his tail meditatively. "So…where does this leave us?"

As predicted, the man with the knife was stunned momentarily when confronted by a giant talking animal, and Red used the moment of hesitation to slip into the air vent.

No one had pursued him after that point.

Now, he slipped out of the external duct and to the ground outside the tower. He was headed away from the building, back to their rendezvous point, when a deafening explosion rattled what felt like the entire city.

Instinct took over and he tore away from the sound, powerful limbs slowing him to cross a great distance in a short time. When it felt like it might be safer, he looked back on the tower.

The entire top few floors of the building were gone. Green fire licked the sides of the structure, spreading down in an uncontrollable frenzy of destruction.

Red knew what had happened – somebody had cast an Ultima spell on the roof. He somehow knew that Squall and the others had been there.

He watched the carnage play out for a few moments, green light dancing across his fire-red fur, mourning the loss of the strangers who had made his life exciting again momentarily.

Then he turned and bounded away into the blackness of the night.

* * *

Author's Notes:

HOLY OH MY GOD WE UPDATED AGAIN IN THE SAME WEEK AREN'T WE COOL!

Tribute in the form of hot slave girls can be left at the temples we expect you to raise in our names. In the mean time, we'd like to once again thank **Alpha2Omega**, **Macky**, and our new reviewers **Brutal2003** and **Swann**. Reviewers like you are the reason we keep doing this. Well, that and because the story needs to be told. But the reviews do help!

This was part II of the arcing Shinra Tower portion of the story, the first time Kain's and Squall's groups actually meet. From here, both groups are moving on to new and exciting adventures and subplots. It can only get worse for our heroes from here on as they begin to realize that Sephiroth isn't their only problem! Stay tuned!


	26. Home

Chapter Twenty Six

Home

The world was black.

The world was pain.

The world was a blur.

The world restored itself, but not losing the entirety of the pain or the blurriness. While that wasn't a blessing, Squall was glad of the pain. It told him he hadn't been obliterated by that Ultima spell.

He lifted his head – slowly – and tried to take in his surroundings. He was in a forest. He knew this because there were trees everywhere around him. That was good; his basic thought process was still intact.

A crashing in the trees to his right caused the rapidly fading pain to reassert itself with a vengeance, and he winced as Irvine bounded into the clearing.

"Do you have to make so much noise?" he asked, sounding very pained.

"There you are. Good, you're awake," was his response.

"What's going on?" asked Squall as Irvine helped him stand up. A sudden wave of dizziness hit him and he almost staggered, but it faded quickly enough to let him act as though nothing had happened, for the benefit of Irvine and of course his self-esteem. "How long was I out?"

"I don't know, maybe a day, I don't think they figured out the time difference between dimensions yet. You remember that silver haired dude? The one with the huge sword?"

Squall had no difficulty recalling the veritable incarnation of death that had appeared in the Shinra building. "Yeah," he nodded, holding back a shudder.

"Turns out he and that other dude, Cloud, they have a history. Hey, what's the deal with everyone's hair in that world? Do you think that's something we should be looking into? Difference in, what do you call it, gravity, or something?"

Not in the mood, Squall shot a look at Irvine. "Can we try and keep to the subject, please?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry. Here, come this way," he said, leading him out of the clearing and deeper into the forest. "Where was I?"

"The man who appeared in the Shinra building."

"Oh, yeah. Turns out he's like an ultimate warrior or something, and that guy Cloud is the only one in their world to have beaten him in single combat."

"He must not have been on form back there, then." Their fight had been very impressive, but nevertheless equally matched.

"I know. But, get this – he's supposed to be dead."

"Cloud?"

"No, that other guy, his name's Sephiroth. Reno told me that Cloud killed him before – twice. He somehow came back to life, nearly blew up the world, or something, and then he and his friends tracked him down, killed him, and stopped the bomb going off. Or whatever it was."

Squall felt a growing feeling of déjà vu. "Wait. Isn't this what Red told us back in Midgar?"

"Yeah, but the scary thing is, that was Sephiroth again. Looks like he's back from the dead again."

"Do you think he might have something to do with what's going on with the dimension changes?"

"Yeah, but I don't think he's behind it all."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, do you remember that other gang of guys we saw on the stairwell? I overhead one of them say to another, something about not letting Sephiroth get away into another world."

"So?"

"I don't know, it's just a feeling I've got. We've only just found out about these dimensional portal things, but this guy sounded like he'd been doing it for a while, like they knew where to cut him off from going. Then when he went through the ceiling, we all sort of scattered, and I didn't hear anything else."

Squall filed this away for later use. While Irvine may not have world-class intellect, his hunches sometimes proved correct, and it had been him to figure out the correlation between the use of GFs and memory loss.

They continued trudging through the forest, towards Irvine's unspecified goal. Zidane had shown up out of nowhere and made each of them jump off the side of the Shinra building into a portal that he promised was just off the side. Not one of Squall's happiest experiences.

"Any idea where we are?"

"Yes, actually," said Irvine. Squall was surprised; he had expected to appear in another strange world, completely alien to them.

The trees thinned somewhat to reveal a mess of buildings just ahead of them. Squall still couldn't recognise it, however.

"So where are we?"

"You must've hit your head harder than it looks. Look around you. We're just outside Timber."

Now Irvine had told him, the forest didn't look any more familiar. A tree was a tree, although he supposed the amount of them should have given him some indication.

"Where's everyone else?" he asked.

"Just ahead. Reno's with Quistis and Avira, and me and Zidane were out looking for other survivors. We all got separated somehow; I don't get these portal things just yet. I found you, anyway."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah. One of the guys, we think he's from that other group, got mixed up in the fight and ended up on our end instead. His name's Locke."

"Okay, is that it?"

"No, uhm…" Irvine debilitated on how to relay this piece of information, and obviously decided to just come right out with it with his usual grace. "Cloud's gone missing."

"_What?_" managed Squall.

"Uhm, yeah, he must've given us the slip in the confusion, and, well, he must just be loose around here somewhere."

Squall cursed inwardly. He'd aimed to avoid bringing back anyone who didn't belong in their dimension, but the circumstances on the top of the Shinra building forced them to bring with them several non-native individuals. Reno, because they had promised him a place in the Garden in payment for helping them out. Zidane, because he showed them where the portal to escape was located. Cloud, based on a split second consultation with his conscience. And Avira, presumably the quiet scientist who'd been with Reno, who knows what her story was. It was another thing on his to do list. Right after finding out where Cloud was, and what Locke was doing with them.

He sighed, and Irvine looked back at him.

"It'll be okay," he said.

"I hope so."

They finally cleared the trees. Now he could see the entrance to the town, he felt a bit more confident about the situation. The office that SeeD maintained was just along the street, and he could see the blazing red hair that doubtlessly belonged to Reno loitering just outside.

He would have liked to have checked in with the Garden when he and Irvine were last in Timber, but between being in police custody and their frantic escape there just wasn't the opportunity.

Reno tipped his head at them as they approached.

"Nice universe," he said.

"Make yourself at home," said Squall.

"Already did. Come on, they're waiting."

He led them inside, Squall walking along behind him slightly irritated at the thought of Reno leading him around as if he was the stranger. Just a defence mechanism to hide insecurity, he told himself.

The front door swung open to reveal a narrow set of stairs, which in turn led up to a deceptively large room that sat above street level. Squall was glad the road outside was deserted; Reno's behaviour was at least mildly suspicious, and they were trying to keep a low profile. He hoped Zidane didn't run into any people on his search and rescue operation – his tail was bound to attract all kinds of unhealthy attention.

The control room contained three computer terminals, a communication relay system and a small armoury. Off to the side was a small kitchen and a couple of beds in a room towards the back of the complex. Around the table in the control room sat the quiet woman from the Shinra building and Quistis.

She looked better in safer surroundings, and she had cleared some of the blood from her face, but Quistis still looked terrible. He wondered what she would've done if Cloud had woken up next to her out in the forest, or what she thought now he was missing.

"You okay?" he asked her, and she nodded slightly.

He was about to turn and ask where this newcomer, Locke was, but a rustling from the kitchen informed him of their guest's whereabouts. He stepped out into the main room with a sandwich and Squall got his first good look at him.

He was slightly taller than Squall, and several years older, Squall put him at about 25. His grey hair hung in a vaguely shaggy mess around his ears. He had an honest, open expression that Squall almost couldn't help but be partially disarmed with.

He licked two of his fingers and stared at Squall.

"Good food," he said.

"Thanks."

Locke took one of the empty seats around the table and started to chow down. Apparently, that was the end of their exchange. Judging him to be no immediate threat, at least until his sandwich was eaten; Squall minutely shook his head and turned to Quistis.

"Have you been able to contact the Garden?"

"No, I've tried all of the covert bands I could think of and not received a response. It's quite troubling, and I didn't want to risk using an open channel."

Squall frowned, and some of his restored confidence ebbed away again. Although they were all back together, Quistis was safe (although with more than some minor bruising) and they were back home, Squall had been banking on a quick retrieval by the Garden. This inter-dimensional business was all but finished, and they couldn't hang around in Timber forever, not with the Galbadians still undoubtedly looking for them.

For the first time Squall heard Avira speak. "Maybe I could have a look at it?"

Her big, green eyes looked imploringly up at Squall as though his simple rejection of her offer would destroy her soul. Helplessly, he nodded and gestured towards the communication console. The two women went to analyse the controls, and Squall caught Reno smirking at him.

Reasserting himself by standing a little straighter, Squall turned his attention to the Turk.

"So, are you in?"

"Depends what 'in' is, I suppose."

"The Garden. We offered you employment in exchange for helping us out, and although I don't think you quite believed us at the time the offer still stands."

He pursed his lips. "I do kind of need a new job right now."

"Well, I guess that settles it. Welcome on board," he said and extended his hand. Reno narrowed his eyes suspiciously, and after a few seconds shook it. Squall smiled.

Reno could somehow sense Squall had won something over on him, but as he couldn't guess what it was, he released his grip and walked away, muttering to himself. Squall kept smiling, wondering what Reno's reaction to becoming a SeeD cadet would be. He decided to keep it to himself a little while longer, at least until he got Reno's signature on something.

"Alright," he began, addressing everyone in the room. "Even though I'm sure it violates some kind of physical law, I'm happy to offer everyone who followed us through that portal a space in the Garden for you to at least temporarily stay at."

"That's good of you," said Zidane, moving from the doorway of the room. Squall almost jumped – he had suspicions that Zidane wasn't just a boy with a monkey tail, that he was also some kind of master thief, based on the way he moved so silently. He once again scolded himself for taking in such a potentially volatile group to his Garden, but if Cid had done it for Seifer time and time again, then he could honour his predecessor by offering the same consideration to this group of strangers.

"Any sign of Cloud?" he asked of Zidane, who shook his head and then fell into an unoccupied chair. Squall frowned and then continued with his speech.

"That leaves us with several objectives. The first is to find the Garden. That should be relatively simple, they've probably switched frequencies since we left and we're operating on old codes." He left out the part where the communication console should have rotated to the same frequency the Garden was using automatically, but he supposed someone might have sneaked in and triggered one of the facility's silent alarms. In such a circumstance, the computers would have secured all sensitive data; including changing the communication protocol so no one could eavesdrop on the Garden's transmissions.

"Second; find Cloud. Like I said, I'm happy to have everyone take refuge in the Garden, but to have someone not native to this dimension running around, especially someone as unstable as Cloud, is a dangerous situation. We need to secure him, as soon as possible.

Third, sort out this trouble with the Galbadians. It won't do to have a superpower breathing down our necks. I'm sure we can talk with someone and iron the whole thing out."

"Or bribe someone," input Reno. A glance confirmed he was being at least semi-serious, and Squall admitted it was a useful suggestion. Maybe he was going to take to being a SeeD better than he had suspected. He nodded in the Turk's direction.

"Or bribing someone," he added.

"Can I suggest a fourth objective?" asked Quistis, and Squall nodded his assent. "If we can acquire another mode of transportation, then once we've located the Garden it will be a much simpler task to travel to it, and it'll be easier to track down Cloud if we're not on foot. I can't locate the Garden's beacon with this device, but I _have_ picked up another familiar signal nearby."

"The Ragnarok?" asked Squall, already knowing the answer. Quistis nodded. Squall flushed with surprised approval. They would have a much easier time if they were mobile, especially if they were also airborne.

"Alright." He snapped back into his authoritative mode of address, having a palatable objective they could quickly act upon. "Irvine, and Quistis, if you're feeling up to it, you go and find the Ragnarok, and bring it back here." He didn't want to have to tell Quistis to go and get the vehicle, but they had patched her up as well as they could and he didn't really want to risk sending one of the newcomers. They would stay at the facility where he could keep an eye on them, and at least if they vanished they wouldn't have control of a military airship.

Quistis saved him contemplating the issue further when she nodded and stood up without too much strain in evidence. She must be still hurting from her bout of torture with Cloud, but he'd rather she was out looking for the Ragnarok than back in the small room, where it was entirely possible they would be bringing Cloud in the immediate future.

"You're sure you're up to it?" he asked, and she nodded resolutely in reply. He guessed she had considered every point he had and arrived at the same conclusion.

She stood to prepare to leave, but he placed a hand on her shoulder as a thought suddenly struck him. "Do you still have that Galbadian memory device?"

She paused, considered the question, and then her hand went to the small of her back, where she had stashed the device. The guards at the Tower hadn't properly searched her in the excitement of the moment, stripping her only of her whip, which Reno had thoughtfully picked up during their escape from the building.

"Yes," she said, producing the device. It was smaller than her fist, and very slim line – Squall wasn't surprised the guards hadn't felt it, it had been designed to evade detection.

On it was the database they had been ordered by General Caraway to download from the Galbadian facility that had been conducting research into the portals and how they worked.

"Good. I want you to take it with you and start to analyse it from the Ragnarok. It has the computer facilities, and you might get bored on the way back here."

"Good idea. I'll get onto it straight after we've taken off."

"Okay. Avira, would you say you're confident using this equipment?"

"Yes, the interface is slightly different, but the essential function of the device seems to be similar to the one I'm used to using."

"Then you can continue scanning the airwaves, looking for the Garden. You can also keep me appraised of any changes to Irvine and Quistis' situation if they contact us."

Avira didn't acknowledge the order, but turned back to the console and started tapping into it.

"Reno, you can head back into the forest with Zidane and keep looking for Cloud. Zidane, you're probably more familiar with the surrounding area than he is, but try and work as a team."

He wasn't expecting Zidane to just follow the order, but surprisingly, he did. Reno was evidently taking his new role in the Garden's ranks seriously enough to at least play along a bit further, and they both left the room without argument.

That left Locke. Squall turned to gaze at him just as the older man finished his sandwich and gave a hearty, contented belch of satisfaction.

"Really good food," he said, giving a smirk.

"I think we need to talk about a bit more than the food," said Squall.

The smirk slipped off Locke's face. "I guess we do."

* * *

Author's Note:

Yep. Again we've updated. Not too slow on that one either, eh? Once gain, we'd like to thank **Macky,** **Alpha2Omega, Wolven Falls,** and** Brutal2003,** as well as **Ayri **and **Lionheart1987**. Keep up the reviews, and we'll keep up the storytelling! Or, y'know, we'll just keep up the storytelling regardless of whether or not we garner your written praise. : P


	27. The Wedding

Kain nearly vomited once again as he materialized, and he began to realize he would _never_ become used to teleporting between worlds, regardless of how it was done, with either enchanted lance or black sphere of magical energy. Amazingly enough, no one around him emptied their stomachs, but he suspected it was for the same reason that he himself did not. Quite simply, they had nothing left to throw up. None of them had eaten in the last day, and they were all working on little rest, punctuated with strenuous physical activity.

Feeling dizzy, Kain looked all about, and saw nothing but endless desert in all directions, the blinding glare of the sun shining off the sands. And the sun itself – how it burned and beat down on them from above, making its oppressive force known.

"Where are we?" he managed.

"I don't--" Gilgamesh started, and then stopped. "I have been to every world there is, all for long periods of time, but this one feels unfamiliar. As if... Oh."

"What is it, Sir Gilgamesh?" Cyan asked.

"This is my home. My world. Where I come from." He seemed almost happy at first, the only time Kain had seen him as such. And then the four-armed man's mouth twisted into a frown, and then he spat rudely on the ground. "I'm not allowed to come here. It's where I'm from. I'm supposed to be dead here. Bah! Curse your bones, Golbez, for saving me and imprisoning me to your cause."

Kain in turn also frowned. It was nothing new. He was used to hearing people speak against Golbez, and frequently with just cause. But the Dragoon had an odd feeling, although he couldn't quite place it. Something in the back of his head spoke of warning, as if danger lurked somewhere nearby.

"Where are we?" Rufus shouted.

"Another world," Amarant said.

"I want to go home. Domino is dead. I can reclaim my company. I was this close...!"

"It's called disappointment, Rufus," Vincent said, something _almost_ resembling a smile on his lips. "Get used to it."

"Who are you people?" he asked. "Where have you taken me? Valentine, tell me what is going on now, or I'll--"

"Or you'll what?" Shadow hissed. "Summon your vast armies and your bodyguards to deal with us? They're not here. And even if we were still in your world, it wouldn't matter. The majority of your fighting force was in that tower, wasn't it? And Sephiroth as good as destroyed it on our way out."

"No, he didn't. You did!" Rufus growled, rounding on Amarant and stabbing him in the chest with a finger. "You could have had that idiot Cloud deal with that situation without blowing my tower to smithereens with that spell. That spiky-haired fool always deals with that megalomaniac, why should now be any different?"

"Because Cloud is... indisposed, at the moment," Vincent said.

"What do you mean?" Kain asked.

The red-cloaked former Turk only shrugged. "I only caught a glimpse of him for a moment, but in him I sensed... something else. Perhaps it's just a feeling."

Gilgamesh had wandered away from the party, and had cast all four of his arms into the sky, while laughing maniacally. "I am home! I am home, Golbez! I have managed the one thing you've forbidden of me, and I am home! Fuck you!"

"I'll thank you kindly not to use such language against me."

Everyone jumped, whirling about to stare at a figure in their midst, seemingly made from shadows. A man in dark armour, his face covered in a helmet, stood before them. Kain recognized the suit. Golbez.

"How...?" Gilgamesh asked, stunned, but the Lunarian waved him off.

"I am not really here," he said. "I am just a shade. A ... projection. I still sleep on my world's moon, as I am fated to do. But I can still contact you from time to time, even in such a crude manner."

"I thought you could only do that on Mount Ordeals," Gilgamesh growled.

"So," Rufus said. "You're the one behind my... abduction?"

Golbez sighed. "I have abducted none of you. I have merely given Kain the names and descriptions of those he needed. Four of them, anyway, in accordance with the Game. The rest I had to leave to fate for Kain to find."

"The Game?" Cyan asked. "What Game do we play? We are not your pawns!"

"Everyone is my pawn," Golbez said. "Or other pieces in the game to come. Everyone here plays some important role to come, and none in my presence now are mere pawns."

"Why us?" Shadow asked.

"As good a question as any," Golbez responded. "But first I must tell your ally here what he has become a part of."

And for once Kain found that he did not have to tell the tale. It was much the same as he remembered, but now more detailed. Golbez said the portals around them were anomalies, something that wasn't supposed to happen. Something his Guardians normally took care of when and if they appeared, but now they were completely overwhelmed. He added almost as an afterthought that there were four Guardians, one for each element, Gilgamesh being of Fire. But still he remained vague on many points, such as how Sephiroth came to be alive once more, and why he was travelling between worlds.

As he finished, Golbez said, "Why you? Because you all have something to be redeemed for. Some sin you have committed, each different than the other. Because you are all, in your own way, evil, but strive to become good. Because you have something to fight for other than some person or individual goal. You all need to prove yourselves, both to yourselves and to your peers."

"Nonsense!" Cyan barked. "Sure I have not sinned in such a fashion. I am the bravest and most valiant of warriors. What needs I must be redeemed for?"

Golbez turned on him. "Sloth is your sin. If you had taken the time to learn technology, to learn how to counter Emperor Gestahl's machines during the war against your homeland, Doma might still be a thriving city-state. Now, it's just rubble, and empty fields... and a poisoned lake."

The aging samurai grew red in the face, and raised a fist, but abruptly turned away, as if there was no way he could possibly fight against the words said to him. Kain felt for the man, but found no way to comfort him, even as Golbez faced him.

"Kain Highwind. Your sin is envy. The envy of your peer, Cecil Harvey, the man you considered your brother. Your envy allowed Zemus – no, allowed _me_ – to manipulate and control you, and use you against your best friend. You envied Cecil for his valour, for his courage, for his skill, and for his woman. And all for what? So you could be shown to be yourself a coward who would sacrifice Rosa in order to hurt him.

"Shadow. Always driven by your own anger at your inability to save Baram. It eats away at you, and no amount of killing and hurting will revenge yourself on the world. Your Wrath will never be sated until you learn to forgive yourself for being a gutless failure."

One of Shadow's knives came out, but the man put it away, as if realizing that being provoked in such a manned only proved the point.

"Rufus Shinra. Greed has always been your fault. It is never enough for you. You must devour and take, control and manipulate, all for your own gain. One day, you will be the one consumed, and you will never know by what.

"Fujin Kochi. Gluttony--"

Amarant and Fujin both laughed at the same time, and then looked at each other, frowning. Still, Amarant said, "Gluttony? Twig-girl here is _gluttony_? Is that the best stretch you could do between us and the 'seven deadly sins?'"

"Gluttony," Golbez said again, " but not because she devours food in abundance, you fool. Gluttony because of her need to drown her sorrows in ale and beer and whatever else comes to hand. She drank in excess, to escape. Because her posse broke up, and left her, even though it was her fault. And only I and they know what she did to cause it.

"And you, Amarant Coral, are Pride, because _none_ can possibly be better or smarter or stronger than you. But luckily, you've been broken of that several times now. I wonder how many times Sephiroth will need to gut you in order for you to learn true humility, though?

"And you, Vincent Valentine--"

"Am Lust," the former Turk said. "I am well acquainted with my sin, thank you. I have had years to reflect on it. Sephiroth was born because I was too enamoured of his mother, Lucrecia, in order to stop that abomination from coming into this world."

"Correct," Golbez said, a little bewildered. Obviously he had been determined to knock everyone down a peg, and was dumbfounded that someone had already long since berated himself for his own crimes. "I've sent you to this world for two things. The first is an airship, buried in the sands here. But it's guarded. Beware, there are those standing over it who wish to do you great harm."

"And the second thing?"

"You must kill a woman named Faris."

Chapter Twenty Seven

The Wedding

"Don't be so nervous, yah?"

Tidus gave a start, and shook himself. It took several moments for Wakka's comment to wash over him, to let the words gain meaning. He nearly laughed. Don't be nervous. Of course. It was meant to be reassuring, to let him know that it was _okay_ to be slightly afraid. Then again, Wakka only thought that Tidus had today to be afraid of.

"I was scared too," Wakka continued. "My wedding day... woah. It was cool, though, eh? 'Course, you weren't there, but don't you worry, we got a sphere of it to show you!"

"I've already seen it," Tidus said through a smile. "You showed it to me seven times."

"Ah, forget that then. Here, let's get your suit straightened out. Bet you don't even know how to do that tie, yah?"

Tidus went along with it, letting Wakka fiddle with the thing that felt almost like a noose. This was it. The day he and Yuna had been waiting for. Their marriage. It all felt so rushed, so hurried. But then again, that was the story of their relationship. They met, they laughed, they cried, and then fell in love all in the space of a couple of months. And then, of course, he had died. Faded, to be exact. And then two years had passed, and Yuna had never stopped thinking about him.

The tingling began again, and Tidus looked down to his hand. Wakka was too busy with the bow tie to notice. A wave of green energy shimmed from the tips of his fingers and slowly made its way along his palm, then up his forearm. Thankfully, it stopped there, but it descended back to his fingertips, and went back to the outermost area it had touched before. That was new. And likely not a good sign.

It had begun a week ago, coming and going, never lingering long, but always making its presence known. Both he and Yuna knew what it meant. The fayth's attempt to bring him back into the real world had failed. He was fading again. Soon, he'd just be a dream. A dead dream.

No one else knew. And no one was going to, until he was gone. He had no intention of bringing anyone's feelings down, making them slip into despair, the eternal curse of Spira.

"It's time."

Tidus looked to the source of the voice, and saw what appeared to be a young boy, all dressed in purple and blues, with a hood pulled over his head to obscure his eyes. Tidus had seen him many times before. He was one of the fayth. He was Bahamut.

"I'm sorry," the boy said. "We're sorry."

Wakka growled in frustration, and Tidus was forced to look at his friend. He looked back to where the 'boy' had been, and found emptiness where he had been standing. Despite his nervousness and melancholy at his own situation, Tidus couldn't help but bark a quick laugh. "Can't do it either, can you?"

The cloth to the tent's entrance parted, and Lulu marched in unannounced. She frowned at the two of them, an eyebrow arching ever so slightly. "And what is taking the two of you so long?"

Wakka waved a hand at Tidus' tie, and Lulu rolled her eyes. Resolutely, she walked up, and began fiddling with it, while mumbling, "Two of the greatest guardians of all time... helped defeat Sin and Yu Yevon once and for all, when no one else thought it could be done... and what do you admit defeat to? A tie!"

Her long nails roughly jerked the piece of material this way and that, trying to get it done up correctly, but to no avail. Even as she threw her own hands up, anger marring her beautiful features, Kimahri walked in. The large Ronso didn't even ask what was wrong. He merely walked up to Tidus, and in less than a few seconds, had the accursed noose set to right.

"Yuna waiting," the large beast-like creature rumbled.

"Thanks, big guy," Tidus said with a grin. "Guess we better go, or she might marry someone else."

Wakka laughed at that, but Lulu didn't seem impressed in the least. Kimahri, as always, appeared to have no expression at all.

Pushing aside the tent flap, Tidus winced momentarily at the sudden glare of the sun. Yuna wanted an outdoor wedding, in Macalania Forest. 'A way to send it off', she had said. He was almost surprised she hadn't picked the area they'd made camp in at Zanarkand. But, as she had said, 'that was their place.'

Tidus made no effort to appear stately or regal as he moved forward. In the eyes of some of those assembled, he was nobility. The guardian warrior from Zanarkand, who had died to defeat Sin and had come back to sweep their beloved Lady Summoner from her feet and propose marriage to her. Instead, the former blitzball player ran down the red-carpeted aisle, waving a hand and giving a smirk to those seated at the benches who gasped at his hasty entrance.

Only those to the left gasped. The Yevonites – if they could still be called 'Yevonites' – still had a flair for tradition and a slow way of life. To the right was the Youth League, which Tidus still thought of as 'Crusaders,' regardless of their change in title. And peppered among both sides were Al Bhed and others, known as the 'Machine Faction.' Tidus didn't know much about them, but Gippal seemed like an all right guy, and if Rikku vouched for them, that was good enough for him.

Most of the people there he didn't know. Heck, most of the people there, Yuna didn't even know. But they were all important people, or hanger-ons that absolutely _needed_ to be there. They'd wanted a private ceremony. Just the two of them, and a few friends. Unfortunately, one of those 'few friends' happened to be Rikku, and despite Paine's attempts to ensure the girl's silence, word had gotten out. Because while they were so preoccupied in keeping Rikku quiet, no one had thought that Brother would go to the nearest bar, get drunk, and spread his sob story on how 'his' Yuna was marrying some other guy. From there, things had just gotten worse.

So, here Tidus was, now standing at the altar in the best suit that could be found. Money had been no object. After all, who would charge the legendary guardian, much less the soon-to-be-husband of the Lady Summoner herself? Wakka and Kimahri, hardly running, but most certainly not walking, made their way behind him, and quickly assumed their positions at his side. For a moment, Tidus felt a pang of sadness that Auron couldn't be there as well.

Tidus shot a smirk at the man standing at the altar; Praetor Baralai rolled his eyes in return, but his smile in return was friendly enough. For someone with the New Yevon Party, Baralai didn't seem half bad. Not nearly as stuffy and stuck up as most of the people in his social circles.

As soon as everyone was in place, the music began. The traditional bridal march, a song that had been played at weddings for millennia, dating back to Zanarkand. Tidus gave a start, recognizing the organ music, surprised that the theme had lasted so long. It wasn't _exactly_ right, but it was close enough to make him feel just a little bit more 'at home.'

And then, emerging from her own tent came Yuna, dressed in a beautiful white gown that made the one she had worn at her 'wedding' to Maester Seymour seem plain. Behind and slightly to the left and right sides were Lulu and Paine, and behind, Rikku, who seemed more interested in flirting with the crowd, showing off her bridesmaid dress, than in making a stately procession down the aisle. A few of the Yevonites frowned at the Al Bhed, but most did not. Some even smiled.

For a minute, just watching Yuna walk down that aisle, Tidus was able to forget his own impending doom.

He felt the corners of his mouth twitch, turning into a foolish grin; the type of grin a bachelor makes when he realizes how much he wants to end that bachelorhood. For a bare second, he thought nothing bad could possibly happen, that the two of them would finally get their own happy story.

And then it happened.

A shimmering blackness in the middle of the aisle, forming between Tidus and Yuna. Everyone collectively gasped as a form fell from it and landed gracefully on the ground. Silver hair framed an all-too perfect face, and a black coat covered a lithe body made for fighting. The sword in the man's hand was all that Tidus needed to see to confirm that this person was a threat.

The stranger looked about, as if confused as to where he was, and then his eyes fell on Tidus.

"You. The one the summoned monsters ... summoned." The word was said with an edge of irony, a bitter joke playing on his lips.

The man's sword came up as he said it. He moved too quickly for anyone to react. Tidus' own innate agility was all that saved him from the sweeping arc of the shining blade. Still it lightly sliced through his shirt and cut his skin enough to tear skin. The blitzball player fell back with a yelp of pain.

Everything exploded into confusion.

People all about managed to stand up and turn and try to flee as the silver-haired warrior began to gracefully cut and cleave, swinging his sword in wide arcs at anyone close by. Bystanders fell as the man rushed forward, elegantly cutting a circle around himself. Even as Tidus struggled to stand, he saw Lulu preparing a spell – a big one from the looks of it – and Wakka pick up a nearby stool and hurl it at the stranger. Without even blinking, the man managed to catch and lock the metal legs of the stool with his sword just so that he managed to carry it with his blade and effectively change the projectile's path directly at Lulu. The black mage was struck solidly in the head, her spell going awry.

The women in the bridal party were hurled about as magical energy exploded in their ranks, sending them scattering in all directions.

Panicked people ran about, not sure of where they were going, but so desperately trying to get away from the devil in their ranks. Screams cut through everything, and Tidus gritted his teeth and tried to stand, but found that he couldn't. He looked down to his wound and saw that it wasn't bleeding. But that couldn't be right, could it? The skin looked opened...

A wave of dizziness overcame him, and he drooped down, but he fought it, and forced himself to look up. Baralai had managed to find something to use in the place of a staff in absence of his own. After all, who would ever bring a weapon to a wedding? The man swung it with skill and accuracy, but was quickly overpowered and driven back by the superior swordsman. Gippal and Nooj ran to his aid, but the silver-haired man smirked, lifted one hand, and released a blast of green energy at them that sent them hurling.

Even as he exposed his flank, Kimahri let loose a growl fitting for any lion, and a sudden stream of fire erupted from his mouth as he unleashed his Ronso Blue magic. The man lifted his cape, as if the garment itself could ward off the blow. Flames burst along the material, but instantly the silver-haired warrior discarded the garment, and stood proud and tall. Emerging from the cape stood a single black wing protruding from his back. It beat once, and he abruptly launched into the air.

Wakka immediately hurled whatever came to hand at their mystery opponent. Chairs, stools – the man even ripped the podium from its place, bolted in the main stage, and threw it with all his strength at their enemy. The man casually chopped at any piece that came at him, cutting it in two and neatly deflecting it away from him.

Once more Tidus attempted to stand, and found himself on his knees, struggling to get up. He almost collapsed again, but managed to find his strength.

Wakka managed to make it to the main table where the cake stood. His hands found cutlery; knives, pie lifters, forks. They weren't weighted as he was used to, but quickly he turned them into deadly projectiles, flying through the sky towards their darkly angelic adversary.

The man's weapon moved in a blur even as he flew away from the makeshift weapons, but even he found himself overwhelmed by the unerring accuracy of Besaid's star blitzball player. A sweep of forks soon found themselves embedded into the attacker's arm, and the silver-hair warrior cried out in alarm, as if completely unexpecting to take a wound. The cry was more in surprise than in pain, though, as the man discarded his sword, throwing it at Wakka. The man narrowly dodged, leaping to one side just in time.

Immediately, Kimahri crouched, and with the skill of a warrior Ronso, launched himself into the air with a massive leap. No weapons available, the Ronso had obviously realized he only had one to use – himself.

Teeth and claws bared, Kimahri seemingly flew upwards in a straight line, determined to rend his enemy limb from limb. The blue beast was on perfect course, aimed in such a way that there was no way that the stranger could dodged in time...

He didn't dodge. He met the beast in mid-air, catching Kimahri by the throat with a grip far stronger than it appeared. The beast gave out a snarl in surprise, and found himself suddenly hurtling downward, directly at Wakka. This time, the blitzball player could not avoid the attack.

Tidus slowly regained his feet even as the stranger landed gracefully, and withdrew the cutlery from his arm. Then, as if he didn't notice his own blood, he marched to his sword from where it had sunk blade first into the ground, and pulled it free.

If only Tidus had a weapon. If only _any_ of them had a weapon, this fight could have turned out so differently. But who brought weapons to a wedding? What kind of insanity was that?

He could see Yuna struggling to get up, her dress in tatters from Lulu's misfired spell. She seemed disoriented, as if she was clawing to reach something, and the skirt of the dress itself was in the way. The man began to march towards her, as if he suddenly realized she was a threat. Straightening himself out, Tidus yelled, "Who are you? What do you want?"

The man turned to regard him, cold aquamarine eyes drilling holes into his soul. "I am the Pale Rider on the Pale Horse. I am Oblivion, and Void. I am Sephiroth. And I want her."

It was the Final Summoning all over again, Tidus knew. In order for him to survive – in order for everyone present to survive, unconscious warriors and fleeing guests, Yuna would have to be the sacrifice. But how long would her death bring them peace? Ten years, like the Calm was supposed to? It didn't matter.

"No," Tidus said. "No way. You can't have her!"

Again that condescending, evil smirk appeared. It almost said perfectly by itself, _And how do you intend to stop me?_

Tidus knew he couldn't. Even with his weapon, he wasn't sure if he could keep up with this whirlwind of destruction.

"You can stop him."

Tidus started, and glanced to the source of the voice. The fayth was there again, the same boy. Tidus could barely see his face, but he could make out a smile playing on the boy's lips. Glancing back to Sephiroth, the man who once was a dream saw that the warrior was standing still, as if frozen in time. For that matter, so were Yuna and the people fleeing in the distance.

"How?"

"You are fading," the boy said. "But not all fading things go out quietly. Some, go out with--"

The boy disappeared, and everything began moving again. Sephiroth took his gaze away from Tidus, as if no longer interested in him, and began to move towards Yuna. The blitzball player threw himself at Sephiroth, mustering what strength he could. He flew towards his enemy, colliding into him and--

--fell right through him.

Tidus gave out a gasp of surprise as he hit the ground. But he didn't really hit the ground. He was just... stopped. He was fading now, he realized. Very quickly. And not because of the fayth and their poor job in resurrecting him. The sword stroke Sephiroth had given him. Somehow, it was tearing away, eating at him. Already Tidus could feel the pyreflies that made up his body begin to separate. If only...

Sephiroth was standing before Yuna, gazing at her coldly. Abruptly he said, "You don't have it anymore, do you? They're gone."

Tidus stood up, summoning up all his might, and ran at Sephiroth again. But this time, he didn't throw himself at his opponent in vain. He stood between the man and Yuna, his love, and clenched his eyes.

"I love you," he whispered.

Sephiroth appeared to have no more patience for someone blocking his path, even one who was nearly a ghost. His sword lashed out, and sunk deeply into Tidus' chest. The man let out a groan of agony, but even as Sephiroth made as if to pull the sword out, the blitzball player grabbed the blade with both hands, willing them solid for just this moment, and pulled it deeper into his nearly insubstantial body.

His will and courage, his desperation and devotion all came up in a torrent as he forcefully made the pyreflies that comprised him to separate, shooting forth like a fireworks display, slamming into Sephiroth. For a moment, there was no Tidus, just a multitude of burning lights, all determined to do violence to the intruder. Sephiroth was hurled backwards, tumbling to where his smoking cape lay. Even as he landed, the pyreflies coalesced, forming once more into Tidus.

Burns, cuts and bruises covered Sephiroth's body from where Tidus had managed to strike. Zanarkand's star blitzball player saw them as he reformed, just barely having the mental strength to pull himself together into one cohesive being again.

Tidus prepared himself to strike in such a fashion again. He wasn't entirely sure how he did it the first time, but he was certain he could repeat it. But the silver-haired man merely frowned, picked up his cape, and said, "She's worthless to me."

He walked away, and Tidus did nothing to stop him. Could do nothing to stop him. The man soon disappeared into the woods, and the blitzball heaved a sigh of relief. And then, with that motion, fell forwards. Despite the pain, despite the sadness, he had a smile on his face as he collapsed. The pyreflies began to separate again, this time no longer obeying him, no longer remaining cohesive. He heard Yuna wail, and could see her rushing to him. It confused him. Why was she crying? She was safe. Everything was going to be just...


	28. Locke'd Away

Chapter Twenty Eight

Locke'd Away

If anyone thought that Reno was being a good solider and obeying Squall's orders for anything other than his best interests, then they were sorely mistaken.

As he wandered through the forest outside Timber with the monkey boy looking for the guy with the huge hair (geez, how could anyone take anyone else's dimension seriously with people like these guys wandering around?), he cast his thoughts back to Midgar.

Arriving in this dimension hadn't exactly been a difficult choice; jump off a seventy storey building into a dimensional rift or be obliterated by an Ultima spell. Well, he supposed it _had_ been a difficult choice; it's just that in his head he would take a slim chance at survival over certain death any day. And what do you know, it had worked, he was still alive.

Being in a completely alien world, however, jarred you somewhat into taking stock of what you used to have before and what you had now. Reno realised that he missed Rude and the other Turks. Rude had ventured off to pastures new, seeking a better fortune than the pittance Shinra was capable of paying him. But, the choice of definitely being paid and maybe being paid, in a similar manner to the choice he had more recently faced, had elicited a similar response. He had stayed in Midgar while the rest of the Turks had disbanded and gone their separate ways. To be a part of a team again was probably one of his greatest hidden desires, right below booze and sex.

Not that the last two were great secrets or anything.

So when the very attractive lady Quistis had offered him a place on another team, he had gone along with it for a while. He had been bored, and they had offered to pay him. Plus, he could have wound up having sex with the really attractive lady, so his priorities had shifted towards helping them almost immediately.

But, typically, these things have a way of becoming really, really weird, and quite dangerous, and before he knew it his hormones had driven him into the Shinra building with the aim of rescuing the very attracti – _Quistis,_ from saving Quistis. Then, of all people, Sephiroth had shown up and, in true Sephiroth fashion, ruined everyone's day.

So now he was here, in exactly the middle of nowhere in a completely new dimension.

With Monkey Boy. Zidane was off ahead, eagerly hunting for some trace of that crazy bastard Strife, who was someone Reno had some reservations in attacking based on the fact that every time he had done so in the past, he had lost. But he hadn't seemed entirely himself, and besides, they had parted somewhat amicably, choosing to walk away from each other in the devastated tunnels under Sector 8 during Avalanche's attack on Midgar.

He kicked at some dirt disconsolately, feeling slightly depressed. This Garden had better be everything he had hoped it would be, or he wouldn't be very happy. He wondered if there was some other dimension with a Shinra Corporation who had a division of Turks. His fantasy had extended to finding a world that was an exact copy of his, but where everything was back to normal, killing the alternate version of himself and taking his place, when a sonic boom rattled the trees around him, making him throw his arms around his head on reflex.

Zidane hit the dirt out in front of him, and Reno could pinpoint the location of the blast by the black cloud of smoke rising from the town behind them.

"What was that?" exclaimed Zidane. Reno scowled at him.

"Hang on, I'll check with my psychic radar."

Zidane returned Reno's glower. "There's no need to be sarcastic."

"There really is."

"Look, are we going to stand around here all day, or go back and see what just blew up?"

Reno considered this. The explosion, in his mind, wasn't his problem. He had orders, and he was eventually going to be paid to carry them out. However, he didn't want to set the precedent of actually following his orders to the letter, or even at all, or Squall might get the wrong idea.

He stood pondering for a few more seconds.

"Let's go and check it out. I doubt we'll find Strife now, and we might get to blow shit up if we go back."

Zidane nodded, and they started back towards the quaint wooden town.

* * *

"Why were you in the Shinra building?" 

Might as well open with the most obvious questions; what's your name? Locke Cole. Age? Twenty-seven. Etcetera, etcetera, but the million gil question – what were you doing in that tower. Squall eagerly anticipated the response to said question.

"That's a long story."

He gestured with his hands. "I've got time."

"Maybe not enough time to hear this story."

"Can we stop talking about stories? All I want to know is why you were with the guys we ran into back there, not hear an epic tale about love, adventure and triumph over evil. Give me the short version."

"The short version? Well, okay then. Cyan went missing, Terra cast a spell to try and find him, I go through this gate thing and end up in some strange new world, I get chased by terrified villagers, I run into these four guys who tell me they saved the world from some guy called Garland, I tell them, that's nice, seen any portals around here? I end up having to swim to a portal in the ocean, go through it, swim back to shore in the new world and fight my way through a mountain path to arrive in a slum of a coal mine town. They tell me if I've come through that path alone then I can try out for some battle tournament, and I'm not interested until they tell me the prize is some kind of teleportation magic. So, I go, but registration has ended, so I have to sneak into the tournament, get pounded by this guy in a red cape, get carted off to medical when this guy called Rufus comes and tells me I must be good to get past his bodyguards, that he has a proposal for me. I say, okay, but only if you use your teleportation magic to get me home, and he says no problem. Next thing you know, I'm in this machine that can hover in the air, like an airship, but smaller. He takes me to that tower, makes me help him break in with his army guys, and then next thing you know we're on the top floor in the office with that creepy dead guy, and then I'm jumping off the side into yet another portal. Which, if you hadn't already figured out, puts me right here in this room with you."

"I asked for the short version."

"And you got it. Now, seeing as how I explained how I got here…how about hearing your version?"

Squall considered it, and there didn't seem to be any harm in relaying his side of events to Cole. Locke's story was too close to what they had been experiencing to be a fabrication, and besides, if they had a mutual exchange now, it would lead to the older man being more open to co-operation in the future.

"Much of the same, really. I'm the leader of a military organisation here in this world. Irvine, the man you saw earlier with the ponytail and the hat, and myself were undercover to try and get hold of a powerful magical object. The paper trail from that meeting led us to a government base where we discovered someone had been trading said magical items through the portals across dimensions, and we were forced through the portal into the world where the Tower is – was – located. One thing led to another, we followed a similar trail to the man selling the items to the government in my world, when Quistis was captured and taken to the Tower. We went to rescue her, but at the same time, in a strange coincidence, your Rufus attacked the Tower, and we ended up, as you know, jumping off the side of the building to escape back home to our own dimension."

"Lucky. You could have ended up anywhere."

"I know. And I don't plan to be making any more trips through portals any time soon."

"Well, that's all very good, but that leaves the question of…what's going to happen to me now?"

"I'll take you back to our base, the Garden. We'll be able to hide you there for a while, to stop people asking questions as to where you came from. We'll give you a false background, so any governments looking to exploit the portals again won't target you, and we'll use our own investigation into the nature of the portals to find you a way home."

"I hope so. Because if you're just saying that to use me…"

"Look, I know you've had a bad experience recently with trust issues, but I don't want anything from you. All I want is for you to keep quiet, and not cause a fuss here. I don't want this to get out, it's too problematic."

Locke looked like he was about to respond, but Avira interrupted. Squall had almost forgotten she was in the room.

"One of the lights on this panel is flashing."

Frowning, Squall crossed the small room to look over Avira's shoulder. He took a full second to realise what the alarm heralded, his eyes widened, and he grabbed Avira by the shoulders, pulling her to her feet.

"Locke, take her and leave through the back exit!"

"What do you – "

The door down the narrow flight of stairs exploded, shaking Locke into action. Squall all but threw Avira at Locke, ushering them into the room at the back of the building with the beds inside.

"Quickly, they can't find you, they can't know you're not from this dimension! I'll stall them as long as I can!"

He shut the door behind them and hurried back to the bank of computer panels as the sounds of many feet clambering up the stairs echoed around him. He has just input the password to erase all of the data on the computers housed inside the small facility when the first intruder roughed him to the ground and started to secure his hands together behind his back.

"Squall Leonhart, you are under arrest."

* * *

Locke grabbed Avira's arm as Squall swung the door shut, and assessed his surroundings. As a master treasure hunter, he had become quite adept at analysing buildings and rooms to spot hidden compartments that might house said treasure. 

He spotted such a compartment on the far wall, at chest level opposite one of the mattresses. He led Avira across the room as sounds of a commotion broke out beyond the closed door.

"Don't worry," he said to Avira. "I swear; I'll protect you."

"Uhm, thanks," replied the strange, quiet girl.

He pried open the hidden panel with practiced ease, and motioned Avira into the small passageway that was revealed. He climbed in after her and had replaced the panel – which had handles built into the opposite side for such a circumstance – when the door to the room burst open and several sets of footsteps stomped inside.

Locke held his breath as the newcomers tore the room apart on the other side of the thin wooden panel; the solitary cupboard was emptied forcibly and then smashed apart, the beds were thrown against the wall, the mattresses torn open. Locke could only guess at what some of the other noises were, but after several minutes the invaders shouted an all clear and left the room.

He exhaled as he relaxed ever so slightly. The immediate danger of discovery hadn't passed, but the task of evasion had become ever so slightly easier.

He once again found himself assessing a new environment. The panel had hidden a small crawlspace that allowed enough room for Locke to stand in a crouched position. The secret passageway led back from the building, and then proceeded down, where Locke could not follow with his eyes. He motioned Avira to be quiet, and then for her to proceed along the pathway set out before them.

The drop down, they discovered, was fitted with a wooden ladder. At the bottom was another pathway of the same height, also leading away from the building. Eventually they reached the end of the path, where a metal grate covered the ceiling.

Locke lifted the grate slowly, allowing enough space for just his eyes to probe the area surrounding the metal disc. A street lay around him; presumably one of the back alleys a few blocks from the SeeD hideout. Seeing that the way was clear, he shoved the disc to one side and, after lifting himself up, pulled Avira out of the wooden tunnel. He replaced the grate, led the smaller girl around the corner and crouched behind a metal trashcan.

"Are you from this dimension?" he asked her, his first spoken words in just under ten minutes.

She shook her head, no.

"Hmm." He looked out from behind the trashcan. The town, like all towns, seemed pretty straightforward. There were made up of back alleys and main streets, and they definitely wanted to avoid the main streets. All he had to do was avoid being seen – preferably by everyone – and try and figure out where he was in relation to the perimeter of the town.

He motioned Avira up, and, having deemed the alley safe to walk down, stepped out to carry on their escape.

Unfortunately, he did so at exactly the same time as a man dressed all in blue wearing a mask.

Not knowing who he was hiding from exactly, and so being of the mind hiding from absolutely everyone was a good idea, he tried to dodge back under the cover of the trashcan, but he knew he had been spotted.

"Hey!" yelled the man in blue from around the corner, and Locke once again grabbed Avira by the arm, leading her down the other exit the alley afforded.

Footsteps were once again pursuing them doggedly. Locke rounded a corner to the sight of even more men in blue running towards them, and in an act of desperation, kicked open the door leading into the building they stood outside. It revealed a small storeroom filled with crates, and after Avira was inside he shut the door, pushed one of the crates in front of it, and leaned against the door.

There was another exit inside the room.

"Listen," said Locke as the door started to pound against his back. "I want you to escape through that door, get as far as you can before they get through here and take me."

Avira just looked at him with her big, green eyes.

"Quickly! I won't be able to hold them for long!"

Slowly she moved towards the door, and as she approached it, and the door Locke leaned against started to pound even more violently, making the older man bounce away from it repeatedly, she turned back towards him.

"Thank you."

He grinned. "Hey, I swore I'd protect you, right? Now quick, get out of here."

She vanished through the door, and less than thirty seconds the slab of wood that Locke was trying to keep shut started to splinter. He stepped away from it, facing the entrance to the room, and raised his arms in the air. The top half of the door smashed open, the bottom being restrained by the crate Locke had pushed in front of it, and men in blue swarmed in over the obstruction, shoving Locke against the wall and tying his hands behind his back with rings of cold steel.

"I'm innocent!" He proclaimed, grinning foolishly despite himself. "You've got the wrong guy!"

Strong hands flipped his around, his back once again against the wall. Steady eyes gazed into his.

"Where's your friend?"

Locke shrugged. "I don't have any friends."

The face the eyes belonged to grunted softly, but there was no surprise in the expression.

"I hope she didn't go through this door, because that's a dead end."

Locke was glad the man, who wore no mask or uniform like the men he presumably commanded, looked away to find the handle of the door, because he may have seen the fear in Locke's eyes. The door swung open to reveal, like the man had said, a small room approximately five feet square.

But there was nothing in it.

Confused, Locke inspected the room further as best he could from where he stood. It looked to be entirely smooth, with nothing in the room to hide in or behind.

The man with the cool eyes walked in, appraised every corner, wheeled on his right heel and walked back out.

"Never mind," he said, sounding ever so slightly disappointed. "We'll find her eventually. Take him away."

The building emptied of men in blue within two minutes, however neither the leader of the group, nor the two guards who subsequently entered the small, empty room to double check that it was, in fact, empty, looked up.

* * *

"Squall Leonhart, you are under arrest." Squall was unceremoniously lifted and placed into one of the chairs that had avoided major displacement during the new arrival's dramatic entrance. 

"You are charged with destruction of Galbadian military property, theft from the Galbadian government, conspiracy to traffic illegal weaponry and evading a warrant for your arrest. Anything you say and do will be used against you. You do not have the right to a fair trial."

"And you will rot in the newly reconstructed desert prison facility," added a new, familiar voice. Squall scowled at the man garbed in civilian clothes who had just entered.

"Caraway. Don't you have anything better to do?"

"Remember, anything you say and do will be used against you. No funny business."

"That doesn't scare me, Caraway. Besides, if I don't get a trial, why does it matter?"

"Basically, it might reduce the number of beatings you get from the guards. But you already know about that from your last leg of time spent inside."

He had been set up to take a very large fall for the Galbadian General. Presumably, Caraway had somehow lost the materia he and Irvine chanced across on the black market, and with the corrosive chemical spill they didn't cause inside the secret facility Caraway had subsequently sent he, Irvine and Quistis along with Seifer to investigate, Caraway had a lot of face to lose in the Galbadian military circle. However, by Squall showing up at this moment in time, he gave the General a good escape. There were no witnesses to who actually destroyed the facility, as the deal took place on the black market there wasn't much of a paper trail for officials to follow to indicate concretely who stole it, and as Squall hadn't been in this dimension to know about the warrant being issued for his arrest, Caraway had another charge to level at the SeeD leader.

This would keep the Galbadian authorities happy, it would keep Caraway in his office that little bit longer, and it would keep Squall locked away for a long, long time. Caraway was justified in how he looked smug.

"Your team mates aren't with you?"

"They have a prior engagement, unfortunately," returned Squall dryly.

"A shame. You could us some company, considering where you're going."

"Stop trying to intimidate me, Caraway. Let's just get on with it, shall we?"

Caraway's vaguely friendly expression melted away, and he nodded to the guards surrounding Squall. They filed out of the room and down the stairs, leaving Squall and the General alone.

"Listen to me, you son of a bitch," he began. "I am _not_ going to sink because of this. You butcher an operation I paid you for? So be it, these things happen from time to time. I could even live with you running off with the magical stone you found; we have enough of them now anyway."

"What are you talking about, Caraway?"

Squall recoiled as Caraway slapped him sharply across the face. _Slapped._

"Don't play games with me, SeeD." He produced a small device from an inside pocket of his coat. It was just large enough so Caraway couldn't close his fist around it, and it was vaguely spherical in shape. There were two points extruding from either end of Caraway's hand, and a small screen was built into the front of the smudgy brown device. The screen displayed a countdown.

"You're going to tell me what this device is counting down to, and you're going to tell me now."

Squall looked blankly from the General, to the device, and then back to the angry looking man.

"Erm…you tell me?"

Caraway slapped the SeeD again. "I haven't got time for this, Leonhart. In approximately one and one half hours, the timer on this device will reach zero and…_something_ will happen. Have you set a bomb to detonate? Will your Garden attack a Galbadian outpost?"

"What makes you think I have anything to do with this?"

"Several reasons. One, the device does not resemble anything we've encountered before, and I happen to know you've been operating in a parallel dimension, for want of a better term. You have likely acquired foreign technology and plan to deploy it against the Galbadian Empire.

"Two, your accomplice who we found the device with doesn't show up in any of our databases, thus he is likely to be both non-native to this dimension and the most probable culprit of setting into motion whatever the device signifies.

"Three, the device is emitting a low bandwidth radio pulse that will no doubt activate whatever you have planned. The alien to this world had doubtless planned to be far away from the event when it occurs, and activate it remotely. Probably inside your Garden."

"That is completely ridiculous. There is no strategic value in the Garden initiating a conflict with the Galbadians, not after the peace agreements have been signed."

"Unless of course you were hired to carry out such an attack."

"No-one in the world could pay enough for that contract, and besides which if I was made the offer, I would refuse it. We both know how a war between Balamb and Galbadia turns out, and I wouldn't want to repeat the experience any time soon."

Caraway slammed his palms onto the table in front of him.

"Damn you, Squall, tell me what's about to happen so I can prevent it! Tell me who hired you to carry out this attack!"

Squall felt his temper rise in response to Caraway's outburst. "I'm telling you, I don't know what you're talking about!"

Caraway tapped his right elbow, and within moments the guards had re-entered the room and started to haul Squall back outside.

"This is pointless," stated Caraway. "Load him onto the train, and take him to Deling City."

The sunlight made him wince. He was half lifted and half dragged to across the street and then dumped on the dusty ground.

Caraway marched out behind him.

"You'll never get away with this, Caraway. There's too much physical evidence here against you."

"Oh?" was all the reply the General offered. He issued a few murmured orders to an inferior officer, while a kicking and screaming new arrival from around the corner attracted Squall's attention.

"Locke?" he said in disbelief. "He's the accomplice with the timer?"

Caraway gave him a slightly amused glance. "No, but thank you for confirming that you two are familiar."

He gestured to the inferior officer, who in turn signalled a more minor guard. A button was pressed, and the office above them exploded into a fiery miasma, issuing a sonic boom that reverberated between the trees of the forest surrounding the town. Squall tried to shield his face from any falling debris, but couldn't raise his arms by account of the handcuffs restraining his hands behind his back.

"What physical evidence, Squall?" the General asked smugly. "Load them up!"

The guards lifted Squall to a large army transport vehicle that was idling nearby, and swung open the rear compartment doors. They then proceeded to lift Squall from under each arm, and deposited him onto the bench set into the side of the vehicle.

He started suddenly, realising who was sitting opposite him. Chained to the opposing bench was Cloud Strife.

As Locke was loaded into the vehicle, Cloud actually made eye contact with Squall.

"Look, you don't know me but we have to work together to get out of here. My name is Cloud Strife. I don't know how I got here, but with any luck we can make a distraction and escape, and then maybe you can tell me what this place is, and maybe how I got here."

Squall, speechless, offered no reply.

* * *

Author's Notes: 

Some of you may have noticed the lack of author's notes on the previous chapter. There's a reason for that. When shit gets dramatic, I don't fuddle it up with excess noise at the end. So, for the previous two chapters, we give thanks to:

**Rakunya, Alpha2Omega, Macky, Brutal2003, Ayri, and Lionheart1987.** Keep up the reviews, guys. We appreciate them.


	29. Camp Stories

_It was a nightmare, both literally and figuratively._

_All about Yuna were her fallen comrades, friends she had either known since she was a child or friends she had only just met. People she had fought and bled beside, people who had given their all for her and for Spira. Friends who had been so easily beaten by the one winged devil that stood before her._

_He approached calmly, his step purposeful, his stance guarded yet almost appearing at rest at the same time. It looked as if he expected a fight, instead of having just been in one. _

_He stopped for a moment, his cold green eyes boring into her soul. "You don't have it anymore, do you? They're gone."_

_Frantically, so frantically, Yuna tore at the hem of her dress, the accursed long dress, trying to lift it up from her position on the ground so that she could get to the pistol she'd strapped to her thigh. It had almost been a whim when she did it when putting it on, a way of symbolizing the change Tidus had brought to her life and Spira. Now it was the only way to end the nightmare that had begun on her wedding day._

_She couldn't get the sheer amount of material out of her way fast enough. Before she could even fully move it out of the way, Tidus had stepped between her and Sephiroth. She knew what was going to happen next. He was already dying, the gift of the fayth not lasting. He was going to do the only option he thought he had._

_Sephiroth's sword went right through him. And just as soon as it did, Tidus dispersed in a shower of pyreflies, his corporeal body broken down into little bulbs of spirit energy. And then, just as the first wail erupted from her, those pyreflies took on a life of their own and rammed into Sephiroth bodily, slamming him in a stream of energy and light, throwing him back._

_And then, even more amazingly, those very same pyreflies reformed into a man, her man. He stood defiantly and proud, despite his obvious weariness and weakness. Sephiroth said something. Something she couldn't make out, and then turned away. And as he did, Tidus fell. She found the strength to stand, threw herself forward, tears streaming down her face._

_And before she made it, he just... disappeared._

Yuna awoke with a choking sob, made even worse by the fact that she found herself alone. No one was in the beds to either side of her. She looked around desperately, searching out for Paine and Rikku, her two compatriot Gullwings.

There would be no comfort from them, she realized. They were busy elsewhere. 'They had work to do,' Paine had said, while Rikku affirmed that they'd 'do something.' It was already too late, and neither of them realized it.

Dumbly, Yuna got up, and got dressed. She didn't bother to make the bed. Someone else would get it. Today, she was supposed to be on her honeymoon, sharing her bed with the man she loved. Now it was empty. She'd never felt lonely in her bed before, but now... now that it was supposed to be occupied... She couldn't remember ever feeling so meaningless.

A full day had passed since Tidus' death.

People mourned, and were shocked at the tragedy of it all. The fabled fairy tale wedding that everyone had been so excited about, ruined. And not just ruined. The groom had perished in the fighting. People everywhere wanted to know who this black-caped fiend was, and more, everyone wanted to kill him.

Or so they said. Everyone spoke a mean game, but no one seemed willing to back it up, something that frustrated and angered Yuna to no end. Her own wedding, ruined. Her own husband, murdered. He'd only had a short time left as it was. They were supposed to have treasured what little time they had together. Instead, even that had been stolen from them.

Both her and Lulu had examined the scene of the fight. There had been some sort of magical energy in the air, from where Sephiroth had appeared, but neither recognized the source. Oddly enough, the energy had appeared in many places all over, usually in round formations, all differing in size. But neither were capable of fully understanding the forces at play.

Kimahri and Paine had attempted to find Sephiroth's trail, to no avail. They suspected he was either very good at hiding sign, or he'd taken to the sky once he'd disappeared from sight.

There had been no funeral, despite Wakka's and Lulu's insistent demands. There was no body to bury, no spirit to Send. And vengeance had not yet been had.

They had gathered in the Celsius, airship to the Gullwings. Yuna, Wakka, Kimahri, Lulu, and Rikku, the survivors of the final battle with Sin were joined by Paine, Gippal, Baralai and Nooj. Elsewhere, Brother, Shinra and Buddy were all seeing to the maintenance and flightpath of the ship while everyone else gathered in the bar of the ship. They were all seated at a large table, the other smaller were tables all removed to make room for it.

"Yuna," Wakka said. "We don't even know where to look."

The former Summoner whirled on Wakka even as she holstered her two pistols. Part of her was angry at him. Part of her wanted to lash out at him, for no other reason that that he, of all people, seemed almost as willing to just accept what had happened and move on. Wakka, who loved Tidus like a brother! Was Spira so willing to keep on accepting random violence and death?

"Then we look everywhere," she said.

Wakka looked about to protest, but instead just shook his head. Lulu stepped up after that. "We received a ... report from the Guado. Apparently, a man in a black cape was seen in Guadosalam after two men guardian the Farplane were murdered. Being a stranger, he was sought out for questioning, but no one found him."

Yuna nodded dumbly. She knew the story. She'd heard it already, a week previous. She hadn't paid much attention to it then, determined to keep her mind on her wedding. Now, she regretted that. Instead of telling Lulu as much, instead she said, "Then the first place we look is in Guadasalam, and then maybe the Farplane itself."

"Woah woah woah!" Wakka said. "Farplane's been actin' funny! Everyone knows that. Almost like someone's been messin' with it. We don't know if it's safe to go in, yah? Maybe this isn't such a good idea."

Kimahri nodded his agreement.

"Then you're saying we let Tidus go unavenged?" Yuna said simply.

"No," Lulu said. "But it's clear this Sephiroth was after you. If anything, we should keep him away from you."

"He didn't seem too interested when he was walking away from Tidus' dead body," Yuna countered.

"Yunie--" Rikku began, but she was immediately cut off by Gippal.

"Woah, let's settle down here kiddies. You all seem to forget that Yuna here's lost someone near and dear to her."

"We haven't forgotten," Baralai said. "She's just being irrational."

"Irrational my ass," Paine retorted. "She's been hurt, she wants to give that hurt back. I say we find this black-caped son of a bitch and do it. If not for revenge or justice, then just to make sure he never does it to someone else."

"Dr. P's got it on the nose," Gippal reaffirmed, "and I can't believe the rest of you don't want to go along with it."

"We just don't want to see Yuna hurt herself," Lulu said. "She's done enough for Spira. She doesn't need to charge around the world and look for a potential killer. She needs time to grieve. Tidus hasn't even had a funeral yet, and she wants to track down his killer."

"Well, revenge sounds like a top priority right now," Paine said.

Yuna wanted to howl in frustration. Why were they going against her? They were supposed to be her friends, and they were interfering. Not just refusing to help, but even to dare speak of trying to _stop_ her...? Before she even knew it, she was standing, her chair falling backwards from the sudden upright motion. Her fists slammed down on the table. She didn't say anything, she just stared at everyone assembled, daring to defy them. No one would meet her gaze, not even those who supported her. All looked away, save Nooj.

"Let's put it to a vote," he said.

Yuna began to tremble, fury filling her, but before she could object, people were already speaking.

"She can't go," Wakka said, echoed by Lulu, "She needs to let her anger and sorrow take its course first."

"Revenge all the way, baby," Gippal said, a gleam in his one good eye.

"I can't believe this barbarism," Baralai said. "We should find out who this man is first, what his intentions are, and then act. One thing--"

"--at a time," Paine finished for him, with a sneer. "You know, I have nothing against you or your New Yevon Party, but don't you think this isn't something to take so slowly? We need to act before this bastard strikes again. What if he's targeting us?"

Rikku looked about, and her shoulders slumped. She looked up at Yuna hesitantly, and then said, "I can't vote on this. Yunie, I know you want this guy, but they're right too, and I can't decide so, I guess I kind of..."

"You abstain," Nooj said, supplying the word. "That leaves the vote three to three, since we all know how Yuna's voting in the matter. We're at a deadlock."

"Until you and the Ronso vote," Gippal supplied.

Kimahri abruptly stood up, and moved to Yuna's side. She stared at him defiantly, her hands clenched at her sides. She was more than a little surprised when his arms wrapped around her and pulled her into his chest in a tight hug.

"Guess that means the big guy's on our side," Gippal said, sounding smug.

"I want to change my vote," Rikku said. "I don't wanna lose Yunie. I'm sorry, but... I can't do it. I'm sorry."

Paine let out an exasperated groan, and Kimahri released Yuna. Everyone's eyes became fixed on Nooj. The man seemed to be thinking, stroking his chin with his good hand. "I abstain."

Everyone rounded on him, shocked that he refused to pick a side. People echoed over each other, arguing over his decision.

"Ah, c'mon, Nooj!" Gippal said. "You're the Deathseeker! We should be pounding this guy, and you know it!"

"No!" Baralai countered. "There's been enough violence. We need to find out--"

"--Yunie doesn't get hurt!" Rikku blurted.

Wakka just shook his head while yelling, "Settle down! Settle down!"

Yuna looked up to Kimahri pleadingly, who nodded. He let her go, rounded on everyone, and roared. Even in the air, the entire ship rattled from the vibration. Everyone instantly quieted.

"I'm tired," Yuna said. "I need some time alone. I just... I need some time to myself."

"We'll land the ship," Lulu said. "If time alone is what you need, we'll give you time alone. Everyone will leave for a few hours. Does that sound good?"

Yuna nodded, and then turned from everyone, making her way back to her bunk. Shortly afterwards, the Celsius made a landing on Besaid, and everyone left, Buddy, Brother, Shinra and Barkeep included. She watched them depart from a window, and felt a tear roll down her eye. She didn't need them. She couldn't rely on them this time. She'd taken too much from them in the past, and she didn't want to risk them again. She understood their sentiment, those that wanted to help, and those that just wanted to look out for her well-being.

As soon as the bay doors closed, she collapsed onto her bed and allowed herself to cry once more. She kept at it, allowing the grief out, letting it swallow her up. She managed a good five minutes of uninterrupted despair until the ship took off.

She immediately bolted upwards as she realized the Celsius was lifting off, and jumped from the area she and the Gullwings made their quarters and down into the bar below. She ran down the hallway, leaped into the elevator, and slammed her hand down on the button to take her up to the bridge, even as she replayed the list of people she remembered seeing leave in her mind.

Wakka had been holding Lulu as they had walked out, Kimahri trailing off to the side while Rikku tried to cheer everyone up with some unnecessary acrobatics. Paine and Gippal were discussing something in private while Baralai tried to talk his way into their private conversation. Buddy was patting Brother on the back, and Shinra was falling behind because of his small legs, until Barkeep the Hypello picked him up and put him on his back. So who did that...?

The doors opened, revealing the bridge, and she immediately saw Nooj in the cockpit. Nooj, who hadn't decided to vote either way. He was up to something, but what?

She stormed up to him, with the intent of letting out her anger and grief at him. Surely he was thinking of somewhere to dump her off, somewhere out of harm's way while everyone else tried to deal with this Sephiroth. She wasn't going to let that happen. Never in a million--

"He's in the Den of Woe," he said, not turning to face her, not looking away from the controls.

"What?" Yuna asked, stopped in mid-stride.

"I received a report three hours ago from the Youth League. Sephiroth was spotted entering the Den of Woe. If we hurry, we can find out what he's doing there. Or kill him. Whichever you choose."

"Then why did you...?"

"Abstain on the vote when I obviously support you? Because we couldn't walk into this with a group that was of two minds. Because we couldn't afford to have everyone go into a fight worrying about you. Because we know nothing of this enemy, and yet he seems to know enough about us. I was there. I saw how he fought. It was almost as if he knew us, just by looking at us. As if he was forewarned of every move we'd make in advance. And lastly, because I know of the complete and utter desire to want to fight alone, to see the battle done by yourself, with no one else there to fall with you."

She risked a glance at his machina arm. She couldn't see his leg. But she knew what he meant, that he knew the level of loss that she did.

"I'll take you to the cave," Nooj continued. "But you have to do the rest on your own."

"Thank you."

Chapter Twenty Nine

Camp Stories

"You must kill a woman named Faris," Golbez said ominously.

Kain shifted his lance so it rested on his shoulder, removed his helmet, and frowned. "I heard you the first time. And I don't think I have a problem with it."

Kain expected Cyan to immediately protest, but to his surprise, it was Gilgamesh who spoke. "Faris? As in 'Dawn Warrior' Faris? As in, one of the people I 'sacrificed' my life for, and thus doomed myself to _your_ company when you 'saved' me? I won't let it happ--"

Golbez seemed to shift, and held up an amulet around his neck, fingering it with one hand. Gilgmesh stopped, and turned around, stalking off in anger. Once the man was gone, Golbez released the talisman, and began again, "Faris' very existence is a danger to all the worlds right now. She has to be dealt with immediately. She's currently residing in a large library to the north." He paused before continuing, "I honestly expected more protest from you, the _hero_ that you are."

"We both know I'm no hero," Kain said bitterly. "If this has to be done, then it has to be done. Where's the airship?"

"Due north from you. I suspect the Black Materia pulled you to it. It normally has... difficulty travelling between entire worlds on its own, but it somehow made it here, of all places... I'd explain further, but my energy weakens. It is problematic to speak across worlds like this. It might result in more tears in space, and we can't allow that."

With that, Golbez disappeared.

"So, that was the mighty Golbez," Shadow said.

"Didn't seem so damn tough to me," Amarant said. "I could probably knock him around a bit, easily enough. It's his fault we're stuck playing 'dimension cops', right?"

Kain ignored him, and Vincent intoned, "It will be dark soon. I suspect we should make camp, and get some rest before venturing onward."

"That sounds like a good idea," the Dragoon said. "We've been on forced march for too long, and we need to rest. I don't suppose we have anything to eat on us, do we?"

Everyone looked about, searching their companions for some invisible trove of food that someone might have thought to bring. In reality, they'd all been plucked from their own dimensions far too quickly to pack provisions. If not for the haste and the urgency that his own lance conveyed to him, Kain would have stopped for supplies beforehand. Now it was too late.

"I'll get us some food," Vincent said, and stalked off into the desert, the sunlight rapidly beginning to fade.

"I'll go with you," Shadow offered, the suggestion made more with an air of wanting to keep an eye on the man than out of any real desire to forage and hunt in a barren wasteland.

"There's no need," Vincent said. "I'll be gone for an hour, perhaps two. You would be best served setting up a camp and preparing to cook whatever I can find us."

The entire time he said it, the ex-Turk looked at Kain, not Shadow. The Dragoon thought for a minute, and then nodded to him, giving him his approval. Shadow let out a growl-like noise, and then began to dig a small hole in the sandy area with his hands, readying a fire pit.

"Not that it'll do any good," he muttered, gesturing to his own work. "Not much chance of finding any wood in a desert."

"Well, you better hurry up and get something burning," Gilgamesh said. "This desert may be hot now, but once the sun goes down, it'll drop to freezing temperatures."

"Ah," Cyan said mournfully, "if only Sir Gau were here. The boy was pert, yet his knowledge of survival in the wilderness was unparalleled."

"You mean his skill at flinging his own dung was unparalleled," Shadow muttered.

"That's it!" Cyan cried. "Thou art a genius, Sir Shadow! Amarant, you must come with me. I'll need your hands for this."

Amarant glanced at Kain, and even though he couldn't fully see the man's face, he knew the monk was raising an eyebrow at him. The Dragoon nodded, and Amarant lumbered after the samurai into the desert.

"I have to go," Gilgamesh abruptly said. "Golbez wants me to deal with a traitor."

"A traitor?" Kain asked. "Wait. Golbez didn't mention a traitor. What are you...?"

"The amulet he wears," Gilgamesh said. "It connects his mind with that of his Guardians. It also allows him to call me at any time directly to his side for specific instructions."

"But not the other Guardians?" Rufus asked.

Kain gave a start at realizing the other man was paying attention. The man had approached quietly, and had probably been eavesdropping for a while. Not that any remarks Kain had made were private, but the fact that Rufus had done so annoyed the Dragoon a little.

"No," Gilgamesh said. "He says my name into the amulet, and I appear. But it doesn't work for the other three. Golbez doesn't trust me. Or maybe it's part of his sense of humour. It doesn't matter. He calls, and I must go."

The four-armed man turned away, walking steadily into the distance, and disappeared entirely.

"So... I am to... _serve_ you?" Rufus said. The word was said with such a sneer, complete arrogance twisting it out of his mouth.

Kain blinked. "No... well, yes, but... I don't know much about our situation. I'll explain as much as I can."

For the next hour, Kain detailed out what he knew of what was happening, and what he had managed to piece together himself. Sephiroth was on the loose. That was a name Rufus knew well, and whenever he was mentioned, the man seemed to tense up. Both in fear and anger. But more than Sephiroth was the problem. There seemed to be dimensional rifts that weren't supposed to be around, and making sure that they stayed closed was part of Gilgamesh and the other mysterious Guardians' job. Some other malevolent force was out there trying to exacerbate the situation, but the Dragoon knew nothing about them at all.

"So," Kain said, finishing. "Will you come with us?"

Rufus looked all about him, at the desert, which was quickly succumbing to the darkness of night. "As if I have a choice. But... I think I would join regardless. The idea of other worlds intrigues me, and Sephiroth has much to pay for. If not for him, Shinra Tower would still be standing, and I would have reclaimed my company. I'm with you, but under one condition. I am not your lackey, nor your muscle. Do not order me about like a common errand boy."

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

Shadow watched the entire conversation from a distance, making sure to take note of everything Rufus reacted to, and why. There was something about him. Something that Shadow didn't trust. Not that Shadow trusted anyone, but this one stood out on the assassin's radar more than anyone else. He was dangerous. Far more dangerous than anyone else in the party. But not because of any skill or prowess at combat. The man didn't have a warrior's grace or stance. He didn't make every step purposeful, meant to make sure that his weight wasn't placed ever so carefully, so as not to give up advantage, just in case. He didn't even have the markings of a soldier about him. Shadow doubted that the man had even seen ten battles in his life, never mind participated in as many. Perhaps he was trained in the use of the gun he carried, but it was doubtful that he even remotely rivalled Vincent in its use. No, Rufus Shinra was deadly, but not for skill in combat.

When Kain and Rufus finished speaking, the suited man turned and walked away, caught up in his own thoughts. Likely the man was up to something, but Shadow wasn't sure of what. But he knew one thing for certain. Walking up to the Dragoon, he moved in close and whispered, "Rufus plans something. Something dangerous."

Kain whispered back, "He's ambitious. He plans on taking control of the other worlds."

Shadow blinked. He had never considered that. A bold move, if it was what the man truly planned. "How do you know?"

"The way he reacted whenever I told him about the other worlds we've visited, his questions on the technology we've observed, the threat level from each. But when we called the other worlds 'intriguing', I knew immediately he was planning something on a grand scale. But I don't know how he thinks he'll ever pull it off."

"Likely he doesn't know either," Shadow said. "I will watch him."

"Thank you," Kain said. "I was going to ask you, anyway. Which reminds me. There's something I've been meaning to mention. We need a chain of command in the group."

"A good idea," Shadow said. "If you get injured or die, someone needs to replace you."

"And I want that someone to be you," Kain said. "You're efficient and reliable, and you can do what needs to be done. You don't worry so much about morals and higher ethics like Cyan does."

Shadow frowned. He hadn't been expecting this. If anything, he had expected Kain to name Valentine as his second, or perhaps Rufus. "I'm too much of a--"

"Loner?" Kain asked. "Most of us here are. You, Vincent, myself. Amarant most definitely. Cyan follows, but he doesn't lead, while Rufus leads, but I don't think he'd ever give a second thought to the greater good, just what can serve him."

"Highwind!"

Both Shadow and the Dragoon looked to the source of the voice to see a shirtless Amarant carrying a bundle on his arms, a look of outrage on his face, Cyan trailing behind him, also shirtless and carrying a sack of something.

The large monk growled, "The next time this son of a bitch--"

"My mother was no such thing!" Cyan interjected.

"--son of a _dirty_ bitch wants me to come along with him, you can go your damn self. Do you know what this slum bitch has had me doing?"

"Sir Amarant!" Cyan said in exasperation.

As the two strode closer, Shadow began to smell it, even through his mask. He nearly gagged, and saw that Kain actually was.

"What is that?" the Dragoon asked.

"Shit," Amarant said. "As in crap. Crud. Excrement. Dung. Feces. Refuse. Poop. You know... _shit._"

"Where did you find those sacks?" Shadow asked, pointing at their odoriferous bundles.

"They're our godamn shirts," the monk said, his teeth clenched. "And it's not like we can wash the damn things, with the complete and utter lack of water around."

"So," Kain asked. "Why exactly are you carrying around, uh, excrement?"

"Because it will burn," Cyan said proudly. "I thought back to when one time that myself, Sir Sabin and Sir Gau were in a similar situation in the Veldt, and Sir Gau had us collect the droppings of local monsters so that we could use them in a fire. Since it will be freezing shortly, I thought it best that we had a fire of some sort, but with no trees--"

"We understand," Shadow said. "Better a smelly fire than no fire."

Cyan looked as if Shadow had just handed him a gold medal. The man seemed about to return the compliment with his normal level of modesty when a loud growling noise filled the camp. Shadow's hands instantly went to his weapons as his eyes scanned the horizon. In the fading light, he saw nothing that would indicate the source of the noise.

It took him a moment to realize the growl wasn't one of a threatening nature when it turned into a shrill scream of animalistic pain. Still Shadow didn't ease his hands away from his weapons.

"Think it was Vincent?" Kain asked.

"No," Shadow said. "No gunfire, and I don't see him as a melee fighter. Whatever's out there is big, and in pain. Likely, something bigger put it in that state."

But to their collective shock, a few moments later, Vincent walked into the camp, struggling to drag a carcass of a large monster into the camp. Amarant was immediately at his side, and began heaving their prospective dinner into the camp, towards the firepit.

Shadow frowned at Vincent, and looked over the body of the dead monster. It appeared to have its origins from some sort of overly large bull. More than likely, it would be edible. But that wasn't what Shadow was looking for. Across the beast's throat, a gash had been deeply cut. So, no gun wounds. So how had Vincent killed it? The assassin looked doubtfully at Vincent's clawed gauntlet, and shook his head. There was no way the man had used that as an effective weapon.

Before he could voice a comment, though, the ex-Turk said, "Where's Fujin?"

Shadow's head darted up, and he scanned the area, only to find the albino girl gone. Well, she had to be good in order for him not to notice that. And for a moment, he'd nearly written her off as useless.

"HERE," came her voice, and Shadow nearly jumped as the girl emerged from the darkness. He was getting too damn old, that was what it was. He was beginning to lose it. _No one_ snook up on Shadow. It just didn't happen.

The girl was walking into camp, carrying a bundle of twigs and old brush, and tossed it into the empty firepit. Cyan looked crestfallen that Fujin had brought better kindling than he had. And probably more hygienic to cook over.

"Where'd you get that?" Amarant asked.

"PACK RATS," the girl said. "NESTS."

Shadow nodded thoughtfully. The girl was smart, and obviously had a keen eye in order to find them so quickly.

"There any more?" the monk asked. "Because sure as shit, I don't wanna be burnin' no shit tonight unless I have to."

Fujin nodded, and motioned for the large man to follow her. On a whim, Shadow decided to as well. She led them out into the desert at a quick pace, which both easily matched. The entire way, Shadow watched her, studying her movements. The entire group was easy to figure out. Why they were there, why Golbez had chosen them. Kain was the leader. The man who'd seen another great leader, and had an example to follow, to emulate. He and Vincent were the killers, the men who knew what to do, and never let ethics get in their way. Amarant was their muscle, but also, in his own way, their strategist. Rufus was more than likely brilliant in a different way, but Amarant seemed more down to earth, even if he acted the selfish fool from time to time. Cyan, of course, was the conscience of the team, the only one who cared at all for the consequences of their actions. But Fujin was a mystery. Why was she with them?

As if thinking the exact same thing, Amarant said, "So, why you? Out o' everyone in the whole damn universe, why do you think Golbez picked you, girl?"

"Ssh!" she answered.

Shadow blinked at that. The noise that had come from her that time had been quiet, soft. For a while, he'd thought she was only capable of loud, almost bark-like responses. But this time, it'd been a gentle hush, not the yell of 'QUIET' that he would have expected.

"There," she said, pointing at the ground, slightly to their left. Again, Shadow noted the _normalcy_ in her tone. So, she wasn't confined to perpetual loud responses all the time. Now it was a fact etched into his mind.

They moved towards the hole, and while Amarant seemed good at being unable to make a noise, to Shadow's surprise, Fujin was even better. Her steps were careful and perfectly weighted, making perfect use of her small frame. So, she really was decent at stealth. He wasn't getting old after all. Well, he was, but it wasn't affecting his skills yet.

They crouched down, and Fujin once more whispered, "There."

She pointed to a small hole in the ground, and Amarant nodded. He placed two thick fingers into it, and widened the hole. A squeak-like noise erupted from it, and soon a small mouse emerged from the entrance, being careful to avoid Amarant as much as possible, and ran into the night. The large monk grunted, and Fujin once more shushed him.

"Why're we bein' quiet?" he asked softly.

"Monsters," she said. "Out there."

"So, I say we take 'em. I'm up for a fight. Why not you? You're pretty tough for a small thing, and Shadow here's pretty fuckin' quick."

"Too many," she said.

Shadow's gaze looked over the dark horizon, scanning for the alleged monsters, but couldn't see any in the poor lighting. With the sun almost completely gone, they'd be lucky to find camp if Cyan hadn't started the fire by then. So, if his trained eyes couldn't see any monsters, how in the world could Fujin possibly know they were out there?

As Amarant worked at the hole, expanding it, he whispered, "When we get back, I'm gonna spar for a bit. Gonna need a partner. You up for it, Twiggy?"

Fujin glared at him disdainfully, obviously not appreciative of her new nickname. Still, Amarant continued, "Hey, if you don't wanna, we could always sit around and talk. Have a little heart-to-heart. What was it Golbez said about you? Somethin' 'bout a posse, and you broke it up? What'd you do, get into a fight with your boyfriend or--"

Fujin's full-armed slap took Amarant directly across the jaw. The man shifted his neck, making several popping noises, and then said, "Probably deserved that. Okay, you get that one for free. And..." He finally tore a large piece of the barren earth out, revealing a treasure trove of dried twigs and roots, pieces of cactus, and dead brush. "...done. Can we go back to the camp now?"

LLLLLLLLLLLL

They sat around the campfire, the carcass of the animal Vincent had somehow killed cut up and placed on a makeshift spit over the flames. It wasn't professionally done, and the group had been disappointed to discover that not a single member of their party had anything resembling culinary talent, which most of them found to be greatly amusing. A large chunk of the group was able to kill monsters with great efficiency, but not a single one of them knew how to put a useful application to it once it was dead.

Shadow stared into the fire, thinking about the conversation Amarant had attempted to strike up with Fujin. Despite the monk's failure, Shadow kept playing it over and over, wondering about the possibilities. They were a group of complete strangers. Other than himself and Cyan, and Vincent and Rufus, not a single person present had any experience with any of the others. For the most part, they were a group of loners, as Kain had said earlier. Not a single one of them meshed well with a group, except Cyan, and here they stood, forced into a group together. Trust was what they needed, but it was the one thing Shadow could never give. The one thing most of them could never give. But if they didn't... he recalled the fight with Sephiroth they'd had. They'd barely survived it. Partly because Sephiroth was just so... so... _deadly_, but also partly because the group wasn't a group. It was just a collection of individuals. They were missing something. And it was the one thing Shadow had always disdained.

"You all know me as Shadow," he said, almost to his own surprise, voicing his thoughts. He knew he shouldn't be saying this. He hadn't even shared it with the last group of heroes he'd been thrown into. But now... "But my birth name is Clyde Arrowny."

Kain gave him a quizzical look, and Cyan, who had just carved himself a piece of meat off their roast, stood staring at the man with his jaw hanging open. Shadow unpinned the veil that covered the lower half of his face, something he'd always been so careful to conceal to his former companions. Cyan fell backwards and landed firmly on his rear, continuing his stare of absolute shock. Rufus and Amarant, who'd been chatting about something in private, stopped their discussion, and were looking in his direction now. Vincent, a mystery as always, was also looking on, his expression completely unreadable. Fujin stared at him, but not in shock like Cyan. Consideration, perhaps. Reassessment, maybe.

"I was once a train robber in my world. My partner, Baram Parker, and I found a train carrying nearly one billion gil, and decided to rob it. We were both drunk on our own self-worth and skill, so we took the job, and did it. We pulled it off. The heist of the century... no. The best heist ever managed. We were rich, after that. Neither of us would ever have to work again. But, of course, we got greedy. Our notoriety was such that we had to continue. So we did. Baram called our team-up 'Shadow', and we bought into it. We actually thought we were as untouchable as a shadow. Until one day, a patrol from Doma caught us. Baram was wounded, but I managed to drag him away, until finally, my own strength gave out, and I had to leave him behind. He begged me to kill him. He knew that once he was arrested, he'd sufferbeing racked to deathas punishment. He wanted an easy death. And at the time... I was too weak to give it to him. So I left him behind to die, like the coward I was.

"I took to the forests, and eventually stumbled on a man named Duncan in the mountains. He taught me something of fighting with my hands and feet, but not much. Said I had a darkness to me. So he told me to leave before he could give me any significant training. It didn't matter. I found other sensei to teach me, and thus I learned the ways of the assassin. But my past was always a step behind me, so as I finished studying under each master, I would kill him and move on, so as no one would ever know who I was. Only Duncan survived of those who trained me. I taught myself not to feel any more. I killed my emotions as I had my former teachers. Or so I thought.

"One day, I arrived... I arrived at Thamasa. And there... I met a woman. I was wounded, and she gave me shelter. Hid me away from her neighbours, she did, but they knew I was there, if not who I was, or even what I looked like. I think I loved her. But I knew I couldn't stay. So I left her, even though she was carrying my child. That was eleven ... no, she'd be twelve years old now."

Cyan, obviously not feeling the shock so much any more, managed to widened his jaw more, before firmly snapping it shut, and then opening it once more to say, "Your... daughter? Surelythou doth notmean...?"

"Relm," Shadow said wistfully. He'd always tried to make himself refuse to admit his paternity, but now it all came out at once. "My daughter is Relm Arrowny. And I guess... if I have to fight to save the universe and all the different worlds... I'm doing it for her."

There was silence over the camp, and Shadow began to regret opening as he had. No. He'd regretted it before he'd even started, but he knew it had been necessary. He was about to get up and leave, when Kain said, "My name is Kain Highwind. I'm a Dragoon of the Kingdom of Baron, and a member of the Red Wings, a group of elite fighters led by Cecil Harvey, my best friend. The man I consider my brother. The man I love the most, and the man I hate more than anything. Cecil's a hero. For a while, he was a good man touched by darkness. And I'm... I'm a villain, touched by the light, I guess. We both love the same woman, a woman named Rosa. A beautiful woman. A White Mage. A healer. A forgiving woman, and so kind you'd think it almost a fault. The kind of woman that a man like me would force himself to become a hero for. But instead, I embraced my darkness for her, and allowed Golbez to manipulate me to his cause. I made mistakes, just as Golbez did. I allowed my jealousy to override my sense, and I nearly killed the man I call brother for it. I do this now not to protect the worlds, but to... to make up for the mistakes I made."

Even as he finished, Cyan immediately followed. "I am Cyan Garamonde, a proud samurai of Doma. I was the first line of defense of my kingdom 'gainst the villainous hordes of Gestahl's Empire, and in mine own sense of arrogance... nay, in mine own insecurity, I forbade myself from learning the ways of mine enemies. I distanced myself from technology, and fought valiantly against the Empire with my sword arm, but obviously, it was not enough. The vile Kefka poisoned our water supply, killing everyone but just a very few in our proud city. Most of those left were then slain by the follow-up attack. My own wife, and my son, were among the dead. Even to this day, I thinkest that I am the only survivor of fair Doma. I have vowed never to allow mine own fears to cause such a travesty ever again."

And once again, as Cyan finished, another continued in his place. Vincent said, "I'm Vincent Valentine. Ex-Turk. To those of you who don't know what a Turk is... it's best that you don't. But suffice it to say, I am not so different from Shadow... from Clyde Arrowny. Many years ago, a beautiful woman named Lucrecia impregnated herself with the seed of darkness we now call Sephiroth. Even knowing the potential evil that could have sprung from her womb, I couldn't bring myself to kill her before she gave birth."

"Wouldn't that make you like sixty or somethin'?" Amarant asked. "I saw Sephiroth, and if he ain't thirty, then I'll eat that shit Cyan had me drag in."

Vincent nodded. "I pleaded with the father of the child, an odious man named Hojo, to stop the experiment while he could. In trying to resort to reason, I was shot in the back by that same man, and then subjected to... experiments, he called them. Tortures, in reality. I am no longer the same man I was. I'm not even a man, any more. There's a demon inside me now, always begging to be released, always clawing at the surface. Sometimes, I have to let it out, to appease it for a short time. That's how our feast was killed tonight. Not by me, but by a monster named Chaos. And when Hojo was done violating me, he put me in a coffin, where I could sleep between the ages. It wasn't until many years later that I was awoken by Cloud Strife, and learned that Sephiroth had been born, and had become all that I had feared he would become. That is my sin, and that is what I will never allow to happen again."

"This is idiocy," Rufus said. "I have no intention of sharing my past at some attempt at bonding. But if it will keep the group happy... I am Rufus Shinra, President of Shinra Incorporated. Where I came from, I nearly ruled the world. Then I fell. I was nearly at that point again, until you people entered my life, and Sephiroth destroyed my Tower. Why am I willing to help you at all? I'll admit it. Sephiroth frightens me. And I will sleep far better at night once I know for a fact that he's dead again."

"Name's Amarant Coral. People call me the Flaming Amarant. Long story short, my father was a murderin', rapin' son of a bitch. Thought he was immortal, too. Thought he was unstoppable. I don't remember much about him. I just remember he was the first man I ever fought, and I've been tryin' to forget him. Bastard killed my mother, thought he could claim me and make me into him. Don't like talking about it. I became a mercenary after, taking some training a man named Jacob had given me and put it to use. Thought I was one mean son of a bitch, like my father. Thought I was the best, the strongest, the smartest. Kept looking for the Fight. Thought I found it in a kid almost half my age. Turns out Zidane wasn't stronger than me, but he was smarter. Made me a wanted man. Spent too much damn hunting him after that. Obsessed a whole lot. Finally found him, too, and this time, he was stronger _and_ smarter'n me. Beat me into the ground, and then of all the stupid things... he spared my life. Pissed me right off. Who the hell does that kind of stupid thing? Dumb kid spared me, and I couldn't figure out why. So I followed him and his groupies around, figuring I'd get it after a while. Started to think he was weak after a while, because he relied on his friends. I may be a tough son of a bitch, but I know now that I was a dumb son of a bitch, too. Took him saving my damn life to figure it out. Still don't have my mind wrapped around it, but I know Zidane's stronger than me. Stronger where it counts."

When he finished, all eyes turned to Fujin. She glared defiantly at them, her lips tightening. She looked to each person, meeting their eyes, and then stood up and walked from the fire.

"Smartest one out of all of us," Rufus said with a snide grin.

Shadow shot him a baleful look, and got up and followed her. Kain began to follow suit, but the assassin waved him down. He knew this was something he had to do. Something only he could manage at that moment.

She had managed to make some distance outside the camp, and it took a minute for Shadow to catch up with her even with his long-legged strides. When he did, she turned to face him, tears streaming from her good eye, and to his shock, from under her eye patch as well. She shouldn't be able to cry fromthat eye if...

"Are you going to come back to camp?" he asked. "You don't have to tell them anything. But after all that... I told you my life. Not them. You. Because we need trust, but I figured you'd need someone else to come forward first in order to come forward yourself."

"WEAK," she said. "MY FAULT."

"What was--"

She nearly fell forward, collapsing into his arms, her body racked with sobs. He almost flinched away, but managed to resist it. It felt awkward, her clinging to him, crying as she was. With what felt like supreme effort, he put his own arms around her. He couldn't make himself tell her it would 'be all right', though. Even as touchy-feely as he was right now, he refused to slip to that level of hypocrisy and lies.

"SEIFER," she said. "HE... HE..."

"Talk normally," he said. "I know you can. So stop pretending."

"Seifer--"

"Who's Seifer?"

"Seifer is... he led our posse," she said, each word coming out strained, her vocal chords unused to stringing words together in such a way. "He was... my family. Mine and Raijin's. We stood by him, until... until we just couldn't any more. He turned from ... everyone. So we turned from him. Even when he went back to his old self, and we... rejoined him, things were never... never the same. Sometimes, it was like old times. Others... he was dark. Darker. Get drunk, make fun of Raijin. Mock me. Was abusive before, but got worse."

"How did he--"

Fujin moved away from Shadow, and lifted a hand to her eye patch. She moved it gently away, and showed him. He had expected a wounded eye. At worst, a missing one. At best, just blinded. Instead, he saw that it was perfectly normal, save for its albino colouration... and that it was slightly off to the side. She was cross-eyed. _That_ was why she wore the eye patch? To cover up that? He nearly laughed in her face. Instead, he managed a nod. It wasn't sympathetic at all, or understanding, but it was acceptance of the fact.

"I almost left," she continued. "Tried to. Then he realized what... what I was doing, and so... so he..."

"What did he do?"

"He raped me."

Shadow didn't realize he was grinding his teeth until he heard them scratching against each other. He didn't know he was holding a weapon until he felt his hand aching from the tight grip on the dagger's hilt. He didn't realize he was angry at all until he realized he was truly furious. He forced himself to push the emotions back, to release the weapon, to loosen the tightness about his muscles and body. He distanced himself from his feelings as much as possible, but still he could feel the anger there, ready to sprint forth and overtake him.

"I'll kill him," Shadow said. It wasn't a righteous vow, or a promise of vengeance. He realized itas he said it. No. He was simply stating a fact.

Fujin shook her head. "I... It never would have happened if I hadn't tried to leave. But I... I thought it was his fault, so I told Raijin. Seifer's strong, and we were afraid of him. He was our friend, but we were _always_ afraid of him. So... we ganged up on him. Attacked him when he didn't expect it. Beat him bloody. And when we were done, we left him for dead. But after... Raijin wouldn't look at me any more. He's my brother, and he wouldn't look at me. Thought it was my fault. And... it is. We were a posse, but now we're not."

"No," Shadow said. "You weren't a posse. I don't know what you were, but you weren't a posse. We're closer to you than they ever were, and if you _ever_ say that Seifer _raping_ you was _your_ fault, I promise you, I'll find your world, find _him_, and I will cut into him until he begs me to tell you it was his fault."

He was angry again. He could feel it in his blood. It was definitely boiling. He thought he really _had_ killed his emotions. Terra and her little group had put the creepers in the walls of his mental defenses. But now Kain was somehow managing to exploit that and bring it down altogether. Or was it Kain at all? Was Shadow doing this to himself? It didn't matter. He went with it.

Once again he clasped his arms around Fujin, pulling her close. It wasn't a warm or comforting embrace, but it _was_ an embrace, and he felt the girl relax into it. They stood like that for a few minutes until Shadow broke the silence.

"So, how did you find those pack rat holes?"

"I... could hear them," she admitted. "I... my eyesight is..."

Shadow released her, and looked carefully into her eyes, her red eyes. The eyes of an albino. Of course. Like Cyan had said before. Many albinos didn't have enough pigment in their eyes in order to properly screen light, resultingoften in very poor vision.

"How bad?" he asked.

She paused before saying, "I'm... nearly blind."

"Then how...?"

"Sounds... Scents... sometimes, I can... feel people moving in the ground. I listen for them. I... don't tell the others."

Shadow raised an eyebrow at her. "For seventeen years, I've kept my secrets to myself. While I might've confessed most of them tonight, don't think I've forgotten how to keep them."

She seemed to relax somewhat, and managed a smile at him. He couldn't bring himself to smile back, or even make a reassuring expression back. He continued, "I'll make you a deal. I won't tell anyone anything you told me if you don't tell anyone I hugged you. I have a reputation, after all."

She nodded, her smile widening. It looked odd on her face, but somehow, it fit. And then she hastily put her eye patch back in place, and barked, "TROUBLE."

He looked about, but didn't see anything. "You hear...?"

"PEOPLE," she said. "COMING."

He nodded, and began to sprint back towards the light of the campfire, Fujin nearly matching him step for step. When they came within sight, Amarant, who was busy savaging a piece of meat with little display of etiquette, said, "You two done mackin' already?"

"We might have trouble," Shadow reported.

Everyone was instantly on their feet, looking about for any sign of danger. It was probably that alertness that saved them. A ball of red flames erupted in the middle of the camp, and everyone, barely but still warned, leaped away from it as it consumed their pitiful campfire and their roasted meal.

Shadow found himself face first in the dirt, and forced himself to a position on his hands and knees, coughing up the sand that had been scattered about from the magical attack. With one hand, he pinned his veil back in his place while he unsheathed one of his daggers with his other.

He stood slowly, and found everyone else was as well. Wind whipped about them, coming from nowhere. Sand flew about them, obscuring the darkened horizon, and preventing the party members from even seeing each other.

"Where are they?" Kain called.

"Can't see 'em," Amarant responded. "Can't even fuckin' see you. Godamn magic wind! None of it's hittin' me either, so I can't cast it back!"

"Down!" Cyan yelled, and everyone reflexively dodged once more.

Another fireball exploded in their midst, and this time, Shadow dove, rolling as he landed and instantly back on his feet. He found himself beside Fujin, who was lying face first in the dirt. He shook her shoulder to see if she was all right, and she glared at him, as if to say, _I don't need caring for_.

"Can you cast any spells to nullify this? Are you any good with wing magic?"

She let out a full laugh, and a sudden blue energy surrounded her. The winds died down, and the sand fell down, no longer blinding them. The party was all scattered about, and flaming brush and sticks littered the ground, providing some measure of light.

"THERE!" Fujin said, pointing into the darkness.

Shadow focused his eyes, and saw approaching silhouettes. He squinted as they came closer, and felt shock. He couldn't help but say it.

"You!"

He was even more surprised to hear the call echoed from almost every single one of his companions.

Author's Note:

Wow. Just fucking _wow_. That was a _long_ chapter. I could easily have spread all of this out over the space of two or even three chapters, but I decided not to. You get it all in this one juicy baby right here.

I'm almost afraid Shadow came off a bit OOC in this chapter. And if he gave you that impression at all, keep in mind, he didn't go all touchy feely for the sake of being touchy feely. He did it as a form of manipulation. He saw a problem, and he sought out to fix it. Not even he liked the solution. I hope as a writer, I was able to convey that correctly. I'm not sure I did. Anyway...

Thanks go to ... **Brutal2003, Rakunya, **and **Lionheart1987**. **Alpha2Omega** and **Macky** didn't review the last chapters, but I'll thank them anyway. I'm sure they just forgot or something. : P

Oh, and for a more detailed (and awesome) account of Amarant's back story, read my fic Sympathy For the Devil. (I am such a fic pimp)


	30. The Madman Cometh

Chapter Thirty

The Madman Cometh

Being so far away from the town of Timber, Irvine and Quistis didn't hear the explosion that ravaged the SeeD office. They were safely ensconced in the metallic innards of a car Irvine had stolen from the town, driving along the road that would take them towards Obel Lake at a happy pace.

Irvine had challenged Quistis' complaints that stealing a civilian's car raised certain ethical issues, telling her that their need was greater than the civilian's, however he thought they both knew that what he really meant that there was no way he expected Quistis to walk the distance to where they had stashed the Ragnarok even if she was capable of it in her condition. She looked like she had mostly recovered physically, thanks to a liberal dose of Cure provided by the sniper, however Irvine knew by experience even minor injuries ached slightly for up to several days after they had been healed. Phantom pain, according to the experts in the area, caused by the wound being healed much more quickly than the body is used to, however Irvine had always rubbished that explanation, and Quistis had sustained more than minor injuries, not all of them physical.

She had remained quiet during their trip thus far, speaking only to indicate the direction Irvine should travel in, or to respond shortly to one of Irvine's many, chattering comments.

"We need to turn off the road here," said Quistis, pointing ahead on the road to a small dirt path. Irvine headed down the indicated road, wondering to himself why everyone assumed he didn't know things like his way around a police station or remember the way to where they had hidden the Ragnarok, just because he sometimes asked a few dumb questions. It just wasn't fair.

As they approached the foliage where the large airship had been hidden after their escapades through time, as part of the peace forged between Esthar and Galbadia (the Galbadians protested that the Garden had space capability, and thought that SeeD had destroyed it) Quistis turned to Irvine and spoke for the first time about a topic that wasn't road related.

"I'm sorry if I'm being distant. I just have to recover at my own pace."

Irvine gave her a winning smile. "Don't worry about it, I understand. If you wanna talk about it, I'll be here."

Quistis returned the smile, an expression he hadn't seen on her face for a while, and she rubbed his shoulder in a gesture of thanks.

"Well then, let's get this sucker off the ground!" cried Irvine as he spotted red metal through the trees.

* * *

Reno and Zidane picked their way through the twisted rubble and seared metal that remained of the SeeD office. Zidane's fear and Reno's indifferent opinion had been confirmed, and even a brief search of the area showed what they were both thinking; there could be no survivors of this explosion.

A small crowd was beginning to gather, and someone had surely contacted the emergency services in whatever incarnation they existed in in this dimension, prompting Reno to indicate to Zidane they should exit the scene via the small alleyway that separated the next block from the one the SeeD office had occupied until recently.

Once in the cover of the alley, Zidane was obviously stewing about something, and it took approximately thirty seconds for it to come out in verbal form.

"We could've looked a bit through the debris. _Something_ had to have survived."

Reno rolled his eyes. "Yeah, we should go back. We can poke through blackened debris until the authorities arrive. Even if we don't go back – which we aren't, by the way – there are dozens of spectators hanging around who are gonna tell the police or the military that there were two guys hanging around suspiciously, one's dressed like a hitman and the other has a monkey tail. We aren't exactly inconspicuous here."

That shut him up, but he still didn't look happy. That was fine with Reno. It meant he wouldn't speak for a while.

They rounded a corner, and saw that a door in the alley had been bashed, ripped and torn open. Pieces of it lay strewn all around the doorway, that was still lodged close with the bottom half of the door with a crate.

"Hmm," said Reno. He wandered over to the exposed room, pistol and baton held cautiously, and rounded the corner to check out the interior.

Facing him, standing entirely motionlessly in the centre of the room, stood Avira.

Reno released a tense breath from between clenched teeth. "Don't _do_ that," he said. "If you knew it was me, why didn't you say anything?"

He just received a wide-eyed stare from her, and he relented. God _damn_ did she remind him of someone. He just couldn't place who.

"Well, no harm done, I guess," he said. "Where are the others?"

"They took them both. Squall was taken at the hideout, but he gave Locke and me enough time to escape. Then, they ran us down and took Locke, too. I hid from them."

"You hid in here?" asked Reno incredulously. The room held no appreciable hiding places that he could see.

"Yes. I climbed the wall and hid over the doorway to that room."

The Turk leaned past her to get a look. The entirely smooth concrete wall went up seven feet, where it joined the entirely smooth, concrete ceiling.

"You climbed that wall?" he asked, and she nodded. "_I_ couldn't climb that thing."

"It must've been the pressure of the moment," she said. "It happens sometimes."

Another incredulous look at the wall. "Not like that, it doesn't."

"Look, can we save it for later?" asked Zidane pointedly. "We gotta get out of here."

Reno almost agreed, but Avira turned to leave a little too quickly, and something had been bothering him since they first met the girl in the Shinra building.

"Just a second, sister," said Reno. Avira and Zidane turned to give him a quizzical look. "Back in that Tower, Sephiroth was looking for something. I remember that he had the report from Quistis' interrogation, but if he'd just wanted that, he could've gone on his merry way without coming after us. Now, I'm just a guy who likes maiming and killing a little more than most, and I doubt I've ever done anything worthy of the great Sephiroth's attention. Other than that, it was Monkey Boy, Quistis and you. Monkey Boy? Enough said. So he must've been coming after either of you two ladies, and something in my gut tells me it wasn't to ask you for dinner and a movie."

"Well, that's obvious, he was coming after Quistis for whatever he found so stimulating in her interrogation report."

Reno folded his left arm under his right, while he tapped his chin thoughtfully with the pistol he still held in his right hand.

"No. Seph's good, but he's not _that_ good. We were still on the same floor, but we'd gone far enough for it not to be obvious where we'd gone. He's a warrior, not a tracker. Something was drawing him to us, proven by the fact we'd gone halfway down the entire flight of stairs and he knew what floor to find us on."

"Erm...I...I don't have an explanation for that."

Reno smiled reassuringly. "Hey, c'mon now, sure you do. And you're going to explain your explanation to me, before you make me upset and there's going to be yelling, temper tantrums, accusations, and we don't want Monkey Boy to cry, do we? So why don't you save us both the time and effort and just spit it out?"

Avira sighed. "Fine. If you simply must know, then I don't know why Sephiroth was following us, however I'm well informed enough to make an educated guess.

"I'm what my father referred to as a failed experiment. Many years ago, my father, the late Professor Hojo, captured and imprisoned a pregnant woman named Ifalna. She belonged to a race known as the Cetra, who possessed the ability to interact with the Planet. She was with child, and in captivity she gave birth to her daughter, Aeris. Before she escaped, my father became obsessed with the thought of creating a superior race of human/Cetra hybrids. He...he took from Ifalna her cells, cells that were capable of bearing life, and impregnated them with his own. However, in his ambition, he tried too hard to make his children perfect. He also tried to manipulate the unborn children with Jenova cells, which are difficult to describe but essentially make a person stronger and, in concentrated doses, will turn a human being into a monster. The unborn children could not cope with having both Cetra and Jenova cells, because they, for lack of a better term, hate each other. They are not meant to coexist. The children died. All but one. Me. Somehow, inside of me, Cetra cells and Jenova cells have found a way to share a habitat, and I suspect that is why Sephiroth tried to find me. He too is trying to find a way to bend both the Cetra and Jenova to his will, and would likely find a way to do so inside of me."

"Just for the record - your old man was a twisted son of a bitch."

Avira glanced at him coldly. "I'm aware of that, but as the saying goes, I can't really help who my family are."

"So can you talk with the Planet?"

"As I said before, I'm a failed experiment. I can no more talk with the Planet than I can sense other people with my particular gift of Jenova cells."

"There has to be something, or he'd have terminated you."

Avira winced at Reno's choice of word's, and Zidane rubbed her arm gently in a small gesture of consolation, scowling at Reno as he did so.

"He kept me alive in part because shortly after I was born Ifalna escaped, and he had no way of creating more hybrids. Another factor was the possibility my so-called powers would manifest at a later age, however I do possess superior physical abilities due to my endowment of Jenova."

"Superior, like how? Climbing walls like that one?"

"Mainly reflex actions, I don't have much conscious control over it. It's more of a survival mechanism."

"Oh, I see." In less than a second, Reno pulled back the hammer of his pistol and went to aim it at the young girl's forehead, however with astounding speed Avira grabbed Reno's wrist firmly and twisted it down towards the ground, using the Turk's motion against him. The pistol rattled against the floor as he released his grip on it with a sharp hiss of pain.

"That _is_ superior," said Zidane, obviously enjoying himself. "More superior than you, anyway."

Avira released her grip and Reno scowled at the younger man, retrieving his weapon.

As he picked it up, a thought struck him.

"_That's_ who you remind me of. No small wonder. The girl the Cetra was pregnant with, Aeris; you two look almost identical."

"I know, I've seen the file. We shared the same mother, after all."

"Well, thanks for clearing that up," said the Turk. "Now we can leave."

He led them out of the room, conscious of the fact that he'd probably spent a little too long getting that particular loose end wrapped up, but he'd rather have the explanation than a small and probably insignificant head start.

"What do we do now?" asked Zidane.

"Our first port of call should be this Garden Squall kept telling us about. From there, we should be able to figure out what's going on. We can't do much of anything else without knowing anything more about this dimension – we don't have home field advantage or anything."

"Sounds like a plan," said Avira.

"That's more like it!" exclaimed Reno, catching Avira in a rough embrace. He had two motives for this outburst; one, to test the limits of Avira's defence mechanism, and two, because he knew his old boss had a thing for Aeris and that this would be as close to sleeping with Aeris as he could manage, even though Tseng was too dead to care anymore. Even so, he was starting to lay the groundwork.

"You'll be having fun in no time!" he continued. "Just loosen up a little."

Avira looked to the ground and then the briefest of smiles playing across the edge of her mouth.

"Is that a smile?" asked Reno. "It better be, cause – "

"Woah, look out!" exclaimed Zidane. He pushed them to one side of the alley and the ground where Reno had just been standing exploded in a trail of high-speed projectiles.

"Run!" he called, and Reno, instantly in combat mode, shoved Avira out in front of him and they retreated around a nearby corner into another of the maze-like alleys. He looked back for Zidane, but the young man had vanished. He pulled his head back just in time to avoid another hail of bullets.

Even if Zidane had still been there, Reno couldn't have done anything for him. He assumed he had escaped, and fled with Avira.

* * *

The train was, at best, uncomfortable. The three men occupied three separate cells, each two feet by two feet and made up of strong steel bars. The doors were kept closed by an electromagnet situated in the top of the, for want of a better word, cage. Caraway had been interrogating Squall on and off for the last twenty minutes, but had blissfully moved further up the train, leaving the three prisoners more or less alone.

Squall, being in the middle between Locke and Cloud, was fortunately in a position to speak with either of the two strange men. He leaned across and spoke to Cloud for the first time since meeting him again, vaguely wary of the man who, up until now, had tried to kill Squall every time they had met.

"What's the last thing you remember?" he asked quietly, as to not raise the attention of the nearby guards.

Cloud looked faintly surprised that Squall had decided to start speaking to him; the SeeD having rebuffed all attempts at his communication, but nonetheless leaned to reply.

"Erm…well, I guess I'm not sure. I have flashes of things, but the last thing I remember fully is the night Meteor would have struck."

"Meteor?"

Cloud's mild surprise gave way to full perplexity. "Yeah, Meteor. Y'know…the thing that would've killed everything on the Planet? Big ball of rock? Hurtles through space?"

Squall's memory reached back to when Red had told him about the cataclysmic events his world faced two years ago. "Oh. Right, right, I remember now." He wasn't sure he wanted to fill Cloud in on everything, although he suspected this memory loss story was just a façade now he'd been caught.

"So you don't remember anything beyond that night?"

"Like I said, just flashes. I'm not sure. Why, what's going on? Where are we, even?"

Squall flat out ignored the questions. "Do you remember the device that the General up there has been holding?"

"The one with the timer? Yeah."

"Do you remember seeing that before now? Do you know what it is?"

"Uhm…no, I don't. What is it?"

Squall suppressed the wave of anger that flooded over him. He decided to be more aggressive with Cloud; even if he _was_ telling the truth, the other man's memory might be jogged with some facts about the situation.

"I don't know, Cloud. But they found you holding it in the forest back there, and when they tried to bring you in you killed three of their men."

Cloud's eyebrows creased together. "I did?"

"Yeah. You say you don't remember me. But I remember you. Each time we've met before now, you've tried to kill me, same as you killed those guards."

"But why would I…no, that can't be right…" His expression changed to one of almost amused disbelief. He was either good at acting or he was telling the truth, and Squall didn't know which one to believe anymore.

"It is right. And now suddenly, when they've caught you, you lose your memory. A very convenient circumstance, wouldn't you say?"

He sat speechless for a moment, and then his tongue shifted into gear again. "But…I don't remember. Really. I'm as confused about this as you are. I don't recognise those uniforms, or the clothes you're wearing, I mean, what is this place, the town back there looked completely different to any other town I've seen – "

"Okay, okay, calm down," said Squall as Cloud's voice began to rise. "I can explain that. Basically, you're in an alternate dimension. Sounds crazy, but it's what it is. The town back there is called Timber, and where we're going is called Deling City, which is the capital of the Galbadian Empire. The reason I couldn't think of Meteor before is because someone from your world had to tell me about it; in this world, Meteor never came here."

Cloud's face twisted from disbelief all the way through to fascination during Squall's explanation. "…Right."

"You don't have to believe me, but that's the way it is."

"You're telling me to take that on faith when you don't believe me about my memory loss?"

"Well, forgive me for being slightly sceptical considering our history."

"Which I can't _remember_," insisted Cloud.

They sat in silence for a few moments.

"Fine," said Squall finally. "Let's say, for a second, that I believe you. Where does that leave us?"

"From what you've told me, it leaves us on a train heading to a city in some empire, along with a countdown to something I'm supposed to know but don't remember."

"…Yeah, actually, that about sums it up."

Silence again as the train rattled underneath and around them towards the capital, which they were bound to be swiftly approaching soon.

"What's going to happen now?" asked Locke.

"They're probably taking us to Deling because it's the most likely target for an attack, their government and military chiefs are there, make us sweat because we'll be in the attack area."

"Is it the attack area?"

Squall shrugged. "Could be. It's a likely target but there's no way to be sure. I don't even know if that thing is counting down to an attack, or something else."

"Look," said Cloud. "I don't know what's going on, but if what you said was true earlier then…I'm sorry for getting you both into this."

Squall regarded the other man for a moment, and then had to look away. There was too much emotion in Cloud's eyes now, and to see the man transform from veritable automaton to animated human being was at best unsettling.

"Don't worry about it. I'd be here no matter what, Caraway would have seen to that. At least this way his attention is split."

"So what now?"

"A start would be getting off this train – preferably before the Galbadians want us to disembark."

* * *

Reno ran blindly through the alleyways, but no matter how fast he ran his pursuer stayed right behind him, he could hear the footsteps of their assailant slapping on the cobblestones. Ahead of them lay a large building with a massive antenna rising from its roof, and so the Turk made for the structure, ignoring the fact that making for the enclosed building he had no knowledge of might trap them, instead paying heed more to the fact that his breath was starting to come in ragged gasps, and that Avira sounded like she was in worse condition than he.

The double doors exploded inwards and the pair found themselves inside a large open space, with cameras pointed at a desk situated on the far side.

His gun drawn, Reno turned to aim at the entrance they had just utilised, however their pursuer was wise enough to not follow them, perhaps knowing that Reno was armed and would be waiting for them to charge blindly into his gunfire.

After several seconds, he motioned to Avira to join him, and switching his focus from just the entrance to the rest of the room, they started to move towards another door.

A sudden noise stopped him in his tracks. He aimed the pistol at the sonic disturbance, hoping to catch their stalker unaware.

As he turned, a bullet ripped through Avira's chest. Reno dropped to the ground on instinct, hiding behind one of the cameras of the TV studio.

The discharged shell clattered hollowly to the ground. Avira looked over at Reno with those big, green, quivering eyes, trembling with the effort of trying to sustain her life. Her breath rattled in her chest for three laboured inhalations, and with a final, bloody sigh, she died.

Reno, for the first time he could remember, could just stare dumbstruck at the dead girl for what felt like an eternity. He had been surrounded by death with the nature of his work for most of his adult life, but this one affected him more profoundly than any other.

He had failed.

He had looked the other way. He had allowed himself to be fooled by whoever this murderer was. He was too good for that – he never failed, unless he purposefully set out to do so. The reason he acted so slovenly when he worked is because he could afford to do so. He wouldn't be fired because no employer he'd had in their right mind would allow an attitude problem to interfere with the results he delivered.

But the girl was dead.

The eternity expired, and a footstep echoed in the large hall, pacing towards the camera he now hid behind. A surge of anger built up in the Turk; he tightened the grip on his gun, threw caution to the wind, and heaved himself out into the open, weapon aimed at the footsteps.

This was not Reno's day. He froze again.

Because striding towards him was a spectre from his past, his long black hair swaying from side to side across the back of his dark blue suit, which, although different since Reno had last seen it, remained appreciably the same.

"I'm sorry, Reno," said the man, "I'd much rather it be another way."

He aimed his own pistol at Reno's forehead, stopping several feet away. There was no malice in the motion, simply efficiency.

"But you remember how it used to be, which is how it must be now. No witnesses."

He pulled back the hammer on the gun. Reno's limbs locked impotently, forcing him to watch the final seconds of his life unfold before him, a helpless spectator trapped inside his own body.

"Goodbye."

The doors Reno had used to enter the room burst open. Lighter footsteps padded inside at a sprint and skidded to a halt behind the phantom.

"Tseng, no!" cried Zidane.

Tseng executed a perfect about turn, and pulled the trigger.

The fabric of Zidane's shirt frayed apart just above his heart. The young man coughed once in surprise, and raised his hand to the perforation as if to test it was actually there.

He didn't get to feel it. Tseng fired again. Zidane's head recoiled sharply backwards, and he collapsed to the ground.

It was this second gunshot that saved Reno's life. For some reason, it released his limbs of the lock they experienced, and his gun arm rose to aim at his former mentor.

The older Turk sensed the movement, and dived sideways and Reno's bullets tore apart the room he had just been standing in front of. Reno fled sideways, pistol blazing all the while, not even aiming, just firing in a desperate attempt to keep Tseng pinned down, and he reached the exit just as the gun clicked empty.

Tseng must have been counting, because right as Reno expended his last round, he erupted from behind his cover and let loose one bullet, because that was all there was time for before Reno reached the exit and his temporary freedom.

Reno yelled in pain as the bullet nicked his ear, bulldozing into the door and barrelling blindly down the corridor he now found himself in, away from his greatest fear – finally fighting someone who could easily beat him at his own game.

* * *

"Changed your mind?"

Squall offered just a glance to the General as a reply.

"Squall…if any Galbadian citizens die as a result of you withholding information that is pertinent to this investigation, then I am holding you and your Garden directly responsible. Whatever attack is forthcoming will be considered a breach of the peace agreements made two years ago, and a formal state of war will exist between your people and mine. And I assure you that this time, we will not be beaten. So why don't you stop wasting yours and everyone else's time, and give me the location and type of attack you're planning to use."

There were several moments of silence.

"Damn you! I'm running out of time! There are fifteen minutes and forty seven seconds remaining on this device. Every square inch of every Galbadian city is being searched, but my troops have found nothing. Which tells me that either this is some kind of elaborate hoax, or that you've hidden whatever you're planning to use against us very well – and I don't think it's the first one."

"Well, you'd be wrong. I personally think someone's just trying to pull your leg."

Caraway glowered – if looks could kill, Squall would be struck dead on the spot. "Just co-operate, Leonhart. It'll make things much easier on yourself in the long run."

"General – I swear to you, I have nothing to do with what's going on right now. I don't know how many times I have to reiterate myself to you, but it's the truth. I swear to you on my life; your life; the life of your daughter."

"Don't bring Rinoa into this. I've heard about the vague rumours that you two are having relationship difficulties. Don't insult me by playing the concerned boyfriend card."

"I didn't mean to insult you, General, merely reinforce the sincerity of the statement."

"You can reinforce the sincerity of your statement by telling me what's going to happen in fiftee…"

As he raised the device to illustrate his point, the countdown ticked across to exactly fifteen minutes, and it emitted a low hum that started to rise in intensity. The General held it at arm's length as though it might explode in any second, and Squall instinctively leaned away from it.

But the hum faded after ten seconds, and the countdown remained unaffected. The General held it out to a nearby trooper.

"Take this to the analysis carriage. I want it scanned again, I was told there were no internal mechanisms other than the one displaying the time readout."

Squall noticed that further up the carriage, several of the G-Soldiers were gathered around one of the few windows the military train afforded. Caraway was too busy issuing orders to pay attention to this activity, but Squall tried to move about his cell to get a better viewpoint out of the very small window almost opposite his cage.

It revealed nothing but empty landscape, however the train started to move along a slow bend in the track, partially revealing the skyline of the ever nearing Deling City.

Squall wondered what had attracted the attention of the soldiers, however the train rumbled on the tracks, making him stumble and fall to one knee. As he moved to stand, he was afforded a better perspective of the sky above the city.

"Oh my God," he whispered.

Locke overheard the comment and sounded vaguely worried. "What's wrong, Squall? …Uhm, Squall? Squall!"

The slightly older man shook him out of his reverie. "We're in trouble," he said.

"Why?"

"Do you happen to have something called the Lunar Cry in your dimension?"

"Erm…nope. What is it?"

"It's a flow of monsters that comes out of the moon once every so often, wipes out cities, continents, civilisations, things like that. It's going to happen here in just under fifteen minutes."

"How do you know that?"

"Because the Lunatic Pandora just appeared over the city we're headed towards, and it's not a coincidence that the timer gave out a signal just before it did."

"Okay, so we're in trouble, what do we do about it?"

The doors on the far side of the carriage were suddenly flung open, and the soldiers nearest to the entrance were flung to the ground by the impact. A man Squall didn't recognise stood imperiously in the doorway. Locke hissed from behind.

"Who the hell are you?" demanded General Caraway.

"I'm here for Locke Cole," the newcomer announced dramatically. "Release him to me _immediately._"

There was a moment of stunned silence before Caraway started to chuckle, with a mixture of surprised and nervous energy. "And what will you do if we don't?"

"I don't have time for you assholes. Either give up the thief or face the consequences."

Squall jumped as Locke smashed himself forcibly into the bars separating their two cages and started screaming, enraged.

"I am a _treasure hunter!_ I will never go anywhere with you! How are you alive! How are you here! We killed you!" His words came in one angry rush, not separating into coherent sentences, but rather an emotional flood that started to manifest into angry tears that spilled down his face. "This isn't fair! We killed you, Kefka, we killed you!"

"Silence, thief! What is your answer?" the newcomer Kefka asked of Caraway.

"You can go to hell," replied the Galbadian General without hesitation.

"Well then…that's…" said Kefka, obviously searching for the right word. "_Unfortunate._"

He raised both hands into the air, and for the first second Squall thought it was merely a dramatic gesture, but the train began to immediately gain speed, forcing him back into the bars with the sudden increase in inertia.

"Now you will _pay!_" cried Kefka above the squeal of the train against the track beneath. He began to laugh manically, and the lights died.

He tilted his arms to the side, and the train derailed. Squall braced himself against the cage, and then every bone in his body shuddered against the metal bars of his cage as the train hit something very, very solid.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Once again, thanks go to **Alpha2Omega, Rakunya, Lionheart1987, **and **Brutal2003. **Also, thanks to **Macky** even though he seems to be a chapter behind, heh.

Next chapter should be up in a week (hopefully), but as usual, there are no guarantees. It will feature a massive brawl, and delve further into the 10-2 subplot. Also, Nisus brought up the idea of adding "Previously in Final Trinity" blurbs at the beginning of each chapter, to remind the reader what's going on in that particular subplot. I think it might be more clutter than anything, but it doesn't really affect me too much (other than the fact I'd have to start telling you what Kain and company are up to on a regular basis as a reminded before each chapter...). So, if you would like to see "Previously in FT" blurbs at the beginning of each chapter, feel free to include an aye or nay for the idea in a review or private message.


	31. Clash

**Author's Note:**

**VERY IMPORTANT.**

For **those of you who already read this, read it **again. There are was problem with the original upload. Somehow, the last **quarter of the chapter was lost.** So I had to entirely rewrite it. Anyway... you'll notice we now have a "Previously" section after this Author's Note! Wheee! Also, because the site is being retarded, lines of "LLLLLLLL" denote a pagebreak. The ruler isn't working for some reason.

* * *

Previously** in Final Trinity:**

**Tidus **and **Yuna**, about to be married, find their wedding celebration disrupted by **Sephiroth**. They and their friends, caught completely by surprise and unarmed during the party, find themselves fighting for their lives. Barely able to mount a suitable defense, the party found themselves overwhelmed during the battle. Specifically targeting Yuna for some unknown reason, Tidus made the ultimate sacrifice to save his love. Now, Yuna, alongside **Nooj**, begin searching for Sephiroth. Reports have placed him in the **Den of Woe**, a place few walk into and come out alive, and fewer still come out untouched by the darkness within.

Elsewhere, **Kain** and his party find themselves in a desert in **Gilgamesh**'s homeworld. There, they are ordered to find and kill a woman named **Faris** and track down an **airship.** Before they can make a move on their mission, however, the party find themselves ambushed as they make camp, by assailants seemingly recognized by many members of the group...

* * *

Yuna checked her belt pouch a second time to make sure of the spare ammunition clips she kept stored there. She didn't know how many she'd need, and was determined not to run out of ammo. Shifting the scabbarded sword on her back – Tidus' old blade, Brotherhood – she took a step towards the cavern entrance, but found herself hesitating. The last time she'd entered the Den of Woe, she'd gone in with Paine and Rikku, only to watch them succumb to the malignant pyreflies within, which then possessed them and turned them against her.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Nooj asked.

She looked over to him and scowled. The mere hint that she might be doubting herself firmed her resolve. If Sephiroth had gone in there, then she would follow. She didn't answer him. She just walked into the cave, her hands clenched around the grips of her pistols.

Nooj didn't follow. She didn't expect him to. She would have been surprised if he tried. The man always sought out death, but he knew this wasn't his fight. Even if he wanted to help Yuna, he, more so than any of her other friends, realized this was something she had to do on her own.

The Den of Woe was exactly as she had remembered it. The cave was nearly pitch-black at first, but quickly light gave way as multitudes of pyreflies flitted about, allowing Yuna to see where she was going. She focused on her anger, her hatred as she walked through the caves. She avoided images of Tidus, of her short time with him. Both to avoid seeing his image conjured in the pyreflies, and to prevent despair from overtaking her. Despair in the Den of Woe led to death and worse; possession by the dead.

She kept her mind focused on Sephiroth, and her hands gripped to her guns. She would find him, and get her justice. She didn't need to know why he had come into her life. A year ago, she would have. Now...

Moving cautiously ahead, she saw a dark shape standing in the centre of the main cavern. Her pistols nearly leaped from their holsters as she drew the weapons, readying a loose aim at the silhouette. She made sure not to focus on it too much. She knew it could very well be a decoy, a target for her to concentrate on as she exposed herself to the true threat. Even so, she kept her eyes on it, watching for movement, as she darted from shadow to shadow, hiding behind large rocks as she approached it. She had to be sure of who and what it was before she opened fire. She wanted Sephiroth to be looking into her eyes when she killed him.

But even as she came closer, she felt a calming presence, an otherworldly feeling of warmth. This was not the same coldness of the Den of Woe, the air humming with danger and despair. There were still underlying tones of it, but there was something else to it now. A sharp edge of determination, and a hint of anger.

Realizing that it so closely resembled her own feelings, Yuna gave a start, and slowly approached the dark shape. Warily at first, caution guiding her steps, but then, for a moment, a pyrefly flitted by the shape, illuminating it in such a way that her eyes widened, and her heart leapt. Guns still in hand, she rushed for the silhouette of her departed friend.

The shade of Auron raised a hand to stop her, though, and shook his head. The red-garbed samurai said in his gravelly voice, "I'm not fully here. I'm dead, remember?"

"Yes," Yuna said sadly. "Why... why are you here? I... Sent you."

"Yes, you did," Auron replied. "But, Jyscal himself proved that not every spirit Sent stays Sent."

Jyscal had left the Farplane after being Sent to tell his story, the story of a man murdered by his own son, Seymour. Yuna had Sent him back, but only after learning of the patricide. "So, you came back because of..."

"Because of Tidus, yes," Auron said, a slight edge to his voice. "I couldn't rest knowing that after everything, even after the fayth attempted to bring him back into the world fully, that his future was nothing more than a dream."

Her hands tightened around her pistols. This was her fight, and as glad as she was for the company...

"He was like my son," Auron continued. "After Jecht was gone, I helped raise him. I hoped he would lead a happy life, despite everything."

"I need to do this alone."

"No, you don't. You just want to. A Summoner needs her Guardian, even if he's dead. I'm going with you, for no other reason than that you can't do this alone."

The closest thing that could possibly come to a sneer on her face marred her features for a moment. "I can do this by myself. I don't need help any more."

Auron explained patiently, "Perhaps you can kill Sephiroth by yourself. Or perhaps he'll kill you. Or use you for whatever he wanted to use you for. But the fact remains... you will never find him without me. He's gone elsewhere. Through a hole of some kind. I can see them. They're reminiscent to the entrances I could see to the Dream of the Fayth. Perhaps an advantage to being dead? I'm not sure. But he closed the hole behind him, so even if you could travel through it like he did, you can't follow."

Holes? Travelling? Where did he go? It didn't make sense to Yuna, and for now, she didn't care. She would follow that fiend spawn and kill him. She'd find a way. She always did.

"I can take you through another hole," Auron continued. "I think if I... possess you, like Shuyin once did Nooj and Baralai, I can let you travel through them."

"So you'll be in control of me?" she asked, warily. She didn't like where this line of thought was going.

"No," Auron said. "I'm certain I can become a... dormant spirit. You'll be completely in control, but will receive some small benefits. I once was able to travel from this world to the Dream of the Fayth. Together, I think we can travel to another place."

"But you said he closed the hole behind him. Do you know where he went?"

"No. But ... I feel something. Like a tug. I'm supposed to be somewhere, and I can feel it pulling at me. As if this isn't where I belong. It could be the Farplane calling me back, but it's not the same. The call pulls me elsewhere, through one of the holes. I think destiny awaits us there."

"Then let's meet destiny head on."

Chapter Thirty One

Clash

"You!" Shadow yelled as he recognized a shape emerge from the dust. All about people echoed his cry as seven shapes stepped from the falling sandstorm that Fujin had narrowly put a halt to.

Most of the people who seemed to materialize from the dust were unknown to the assassin. But he did recognize two of them. His weapons nearly left his hands entirely to be hurled at the two figures, if not for complete restraint.

He glared daggers both at Ultros and Siegfried, all the while wondering how they'd managed to appear in this world. Siegfried, ever the cocky fool, merely grinned back, flourishing his rapier and cape, tying up his hands in a pompous display at bravado.

"We found you," Ultros gurgled. "Now I'm going to eat you!"

"Now now," another said, a figure still hidden by the flying sand, "some of them will be getting a special kind of death, and not just a fate in your belly."

"Shut it, Seymour," Ultros said. "If I wanna eat 'em, then I'll eat 'em!"

"Gonna go out on a limb and guess these jackasses are hostile," Amarant growled. "Lani, the hell you doin' here?"

A girl who could barely be sixteen and wielding an axe nearly as large as she was pointed the weapon at the monk and said, "We're here for you. We all have a beef to pick with you, and I'm gonna have your head, Red!"

"Definitely hostile," Rufus said.

"Surrender now," a man with the most ridiculous hair Shadow had ever seen said. From the voice and the position, it had to be the one that had been named Seymour. The assassin was trained to look for weakness in any opponent straight away, discern liabilities and openings, but for some reason, he just couldn't take his eyes off the idiotic haircut the man had, and it wasn't just because it was blue. And to top it all off, the man's voice was nearly a soprano!

"We pickin' sparring partners here?" Amarant asked.

"I'll silence the one that sounds like a woman," Shadow said, readying his weapons. He put himself into a low crouch, ready to spring forth.

"Fair enough," the monk replied. "I got my ol' partner."

"Remember the plan!" Siegfried yelled as people on both sides readied themselves for the inevitable fight.

"Loose formation!" Kain barked, "Don't let any of these people double team you! Pick someone you're familiar with and make them bleed!"

With both leaders having given orders, both sides charged into each other with reckless abandon.

* * *

Kain, not really familiar with any of the people on the opposing side, launched himself into the air with one of his mighty jumps and immediately aimed for the largest shape he could spot. He descended rapidly at the large purple octopus that was somehow able to survive not only on land, but in a desert.

The wind rushed at him as he fell from the sky, his spear outstretched in front of him, ready to take the majority of the Dragoon's weight. As he neared, the octopus took notice, and two tentacles lashed out. Kain shifted just enough to stab one, but the other slapped him in the side, sending him off course. Bracing himself, Kain landed to the ground, the sand providing little cushioning to the jarring impact.

His armour creaked in protest as he stood, and it felt as if it was digging into his ribs. Just how hard could that thing hit? He'd taken lesser blows from seemingly more powerful creatures.

Readying himself again, Kain launched once more into the air with another great leap, but even as he did, a tentacle stretched forth and struck him across his chest, knocking him back to the ground before he had even hit the apex of his jump. Slamming into the ground once more, the Dragoon was forced to tuck and roll as more tentacles slapped at him, striking the ground where he had fallen at.

Once he was at a safe distance, he stood slowly up, but already he could feel the weight of his injuries on him. He wouldn't be able to use his primary tactic in the fight. Obviously, this squid or octopus or whatever it was had some familiarity with his way of fighting. It'd been prepared, and could easily counter his Dragoon leaps. He'd have to go into close combat.

Charging ahead, Kain set his spear into a spinning motion, a blur in his hands. Tentacles darted forward, and the Dragoon was ready for them. He made small slashes, never breaking his stride as he moved towards the center mass of the creature.

* * *

As Amarant deflected another of Lani's slashes, he was surprised at the subtlety and finesse to her attacks. Always before she'd been a hack and slash girl, pounding with magically enhanced brute strength, and striking with large yet clumsy magical attacks. Those were her preferred methods. Now, everything about her approach seemed different.

Already his arms suffered a number of small cuts from where she'd managed to get past his defenses, and he was beginning to become frustrated. He was godamn Amarant Coral, and the Flaming Amarant didn't lose to any little girls with trumped up notions of self-delusion. Especially ones named 'Lani.'

To top it all off, his entire being felt on fire. His muscles strained with every swing, his body cried out. He needed rest desperately. Holding back that Ultima spell back at Shinra Tower had taken its toll. He wasn't meant to be able to Return spells of that magnitude, never mind withhold them and fire them off at his leisure.

But even as he parried a smooth combo with his Rune claws, she managed to jab forward and strike him with her axe's top-spike. He growled again and swung a left hook viciously at her, fully intending to take her head off with the strike. Instead, she ducked under it, and then gave an almost graceful lazy swing of her weapon. He just barely managed to twist backwards in time to prevent being disembowelled. Still, he felt pain arc across his belly from where the axe had grazed him, bringing forth a small trickle of blood.

"What's the matter, Red?" the girl taunted. "Getting your ass kicked by a girl?"

He growled and threw an uppercut at her, which was disgustingly clumsy. His eyes could only widen as Lani dropped her axe, and grabbed his massive forearm, clutching it tightly with both arms and moving with the blow. She spun and let go as his fist reached the height of the attack, sending herself upwards and onto his shoulders. He saw the glint of cold steel from the corner of his eye as she drew a dagger, and began to move reflexively, trying to get her off his back. He recognized the attack pattern. He'd studied it so damn often, after all. She was using Zidane's tactics, most notably, the ones used in their duel at Madain Sari, which Lani herself had witnessed.

He gave a grunt as he felt an inch of steel sink into his shoulder, and managed to fling her off before she could do more damage. Even as she struck the ground, she rolled and moved herself towards her axe, picking it up before he could close the distance. Drawing the dagger that was stuck in his shoulder, Amarant flung it at her, the blade spinning right for her face. Panic in her eyes, the weapon nearly took her eye before she reacted, deflecting the projectile with her axe. Still, she recovered quickly, and glided towards him, once more executing a beautifully timed swing with perfect grace.

* * *

Rufus wasn't cut out for fighting, and both he and his opponent knew it. Hidden behind the haunch of meat that had once sat on the spit, he quickly reloaded his rifle as quickly as he could, slamming another clip back in place.

Of all times for Elena to come back into his life! And of course she carried a grudge! He'd only left her to die at Shinra Tower to complete a mission that had utterly failed because of Sephiroth. He raised himself slightly, trying to see where his opponent was, and was rewarded with the sound of gunfire. He managed to duck down just in time, but still he felt pain as a bullet grazed his temple. He reflexively put a hand to the wound, holding it. Taking his hand away from it, he looked at it. Blood. His blood, on his hand. He hadn't seen his own blood since...

Memories of Diamond WEAPON attacking Midgar ran through his mind, the echoing horror of something so tremendous and unstoppable raining fire and destruction on Shinra Tower. He'd narrowly survived that. Only through dumb luck was he still alive.

"You left me!" Elena screeched as more shots fired, striking the meat that he was using as cover. Luckily, none of them had managed to fully penetrate it yet. Hopefully, that would continue to be the case.

Rufus rolled his eyes at her comment. Surely she had to understand that leaving her had been necessary. If it'd been Rude, he would have. The mission came first, the soldiers second.

He had to keep his mind on survival, though. Take it off her idiotic whining. She screamed something again, and more bullets struck his cover. He was pinned down. He just needed a distraction, and then he could get up and return fire. But cornered as he was, he could think of nothing he could do to divert her attention.

* * *

All about Vincent Valentine and Lucrecia Crescent, men and women fought for their lives, for their honour, for their pride. Bullets fired, swords clashed, weapons were thrown, and blood was spilled, but neither looked at anything but each other.

The two stood and stared, their eyes locked on each other. There was no one else but them; there were no actions save the ones they made.

It was neither a battle of wills, or a challenge. Neither an expression of love or hate. Vincent only searched Lucrecia's eyes, questioning her with his gaze, and she did likewise in return. To him, she had been everything. Because of her, he had his sin. And the only form of redemption he could ever had always lied with the death of her child.

He began to walk forward, approaching her ever so cautiously. He was aware of the battles raging on around him, but for now, they didn't matter. Lucrecia was all that really mattered.

She began to approach, too, but he couldn't read her eyes. They were the same questioning look, over and over again, but Vincent didn't know what the question was. It didn't matter to him. Even as he moved closer, he felt a calm settle over him. The inner beast, Chaos, was quiet, a wondrous and peaceful respite.

The two embraced, Vincent wrapping her in his arms. She was just as he remembered her, all those years ago, before Hojo and the experiments, before the demonic pregnancy, before the weight of Shinra's taint was fully on her. He knew he shouldn't, but holding her as he was, he truly felt--

_Bang!_

He staggered back, holding his abdomen. It did little good. The gunshot had gone straight through him, exiting out his back and leaving a bigger exit wound than it had an entrance. He moved away, his clawed hand shielding his face as Lucrecia advanced on him, gun levelled at him.

"You killed my son," she said, tears coming to her eyes.

He tried to struggle out a breath in retort, to tell her it wasn't really him that had done it, that it had been Shinra and Hojo at fault. Or Jenova. Whichever answer came first. Instead, Turk training took over. He removed his good hand from the wound and pulled out Cerberus, his three-barrelled pistol, and began firing at her. Lucrecia, unused to combat, flinched away from the shots that came nowhere near her, covering herself reflexively. Even as she did, Vincent stumbled away, barely able to stand from the pain.

* * *

"STUPID!" Fujin yelled as she kicked Raijin again.

Her adopted brother tried holding up his staff in a feeble attempt at protection, but as always, she moved her way around it, throwing punches into his ribs, and when he moved to defend them, she'd launch a kick at one of his shins.

They'd fought hundreds of times since they'd wound up together. Some times it was sibling rivalry. Most of the time it had been Fujin asserting her dominance. She'd always been the brains, the brawn and the magic of their duo. Sure, Raijin was stronger, but Fujin knew how to use what strength she had, whereas her brother never did.

"Come on, Fu!" Raijin said, backing away from her quickly. "I didn't mean nothin' by joinin' these people, y'know? I don't really wanna kill you or nothin'!"

"IDIOT!" she said again, punching him solidly in the nose. She was rewarded with a wet crunching noise and a spray of blood.

Stumbling and clutching his face, Raijin said. "I fink you bwoke my noze. Why you gotta do that, Fu? That ain't cool, y'know! Truce!"

Fujin slowly lowered her fists, and Raijin, still holding his nose with one hand, lowered his staff slightly. She glowered daggers at him, as much as she could through her one uncovered eye. Raijin seemed to flinch from that red-eyed stare.

She wanted to hit him again. He deserved it. What was he thinking, showing up here, on another world, with a pack of people probably assembled to kill her group? Was he willingly a part of this?

"WHY?"

"'Cause o' what happened with Seifer!"

Fujin averted her eyes, casting her gaze downwards as she felt heat come to her cheeks. Raijin was right. He had every reason to be upset with her. Maybe even to kill her. She had broken up the posse. Maybe even caused Seifer's death. Seifer, their friend, their protector, their leader.

She looked back up just in time to catch Raijin's staff full in the cheek. She crumpled, falling to the ground instantly, letting out a grunt of pain. As she hit the ground, she knew her jaw was probably broken. She didn't know whether to clamp down or open her mouth, didn't know which would cause less pain. Still, it hurt. She began to get up, scrambling on hands and knees. Too slow. Raijin's staff took her in the ribs. Once. Twice. A third time. Each time he hit her, she grunted, closing her eye away from the pain. She heard something crack as he struck her again. Another crack from a follow-up strike. She collapsed, rolling onto her back as she did, and looked Raijin in the eyes as he raised his staff up high for a killing strike, his eyes filled with a burning fury.

* * *

"Your attacks are slow and awkward, old chap!" Siegfried said once more.

Cyan tried to tune the man out, and swung his katana in a wide arc, intending to take the foul miscreant's head from his shoulders. Good would prevail this day, and that fop would finally be gone from the world. But again Siegfried ducked under the swing, making a quick counter. Siegfried's rapier dipped into Cyan's shoulder, barely doing enough damage to break skin, but still blood flowed from the tiny wound, as it did from dozens of others like it.

Try as he might, he just couldn't even so much as cross swords with Siegfried. The man completely depended on his agility and speed, which were both amazing. Trying to cut him was nearly the same as trying to cut air.

"You'll never touch me with your clumsy attacks!" Siegfried said as he dodged yet another attack.

Cyan, close to howling in frustration, abruptly stopped, realizing his mistake. He was putting himself on the same level as Siegfried. He wasn't a great warrior because of simple sword strokes. It was his own brand of techniques that he had introduced to swordplay, combining his own will power and spirit to his arm.

He stopped moving, bringing himself into a standard attack stance, and readied himself, every muscle in his body going rigid and taut with strain as he prepared to unleash himself. Siegfried, noticing the change, looked about to take advantage of the opening, but stopped, clearly suspecting a trap.

Siegfried stood in a cat-like stance, the balls of his feet not touching the ground, his sword at the ready. He seemed uncertain, wondering what it was Cyan was up to. The hesitation passed, and he stabbed at the samurai. Cyan put the pain out of his mind as he felt the thin piece of steel move half an inch into his left arm, and then again into his right leg. He just needed to focus. Just a little longer...

Siegfried gave a light cut which came across Cyan's cheek. He pushed the pain from his mind, and avoided flinching, despite how close the attack came to his eye.

"Fight back! I won't kill you like this!"

Still Cyan didn't move. Siegfriend stabbed again and again, until the samurai was a mess of small wounds, all superficial, but their number many. He refused to bend, to give in to the pain. He kept his mind and his will focused. He maintained his resolve.

"What are you doing, old fool?" Siegfried asked, clearly nervous. "Whatever it is, it won't work--!"

Even as the words left the mercenary's mouth, Cyan unleashed, letting loose the strength he had built up in a single rush forward, executing a great Cleave. It came too quickly, too inexorably for Siegfried to dodge in time. Cyan's blade took him in the middle in one graceful slash. The white-haired man couldn't do anything but simply stare at the wound that had not been there just a moment ago.

"But... it wasn't supposed to go this way. The... the plan..."

* * *

Shadow was blasted clear once again, hitting the ground hard. Even as he hit, he rolled, but not to dodge. It was reflexive. He could feel the heat of flames on his clothes, threatening to burn his flesh if not put out immediately. Even as he did, a wave of blue energy struck where he'd landed, narrowly missing him.

This Seymour, whoever he was, was clearly an adept in magical combat. Shadow had rather painfully learned that lesson over the past few minutes. He wasn't unfamiliar with fighting sorcerers, but he never had liked it. The man's tactics were nothing like Kefka's. Everything was calm and deliberate, planned and focused. While there was brilliance to Kefka's moves, they were erratic and unpredictable, stuff completely strewn with chaos. This man followed a very set pattern, his mind still holding a firm grip on sanity despite the fervour in his eyes.

And that was his weakness.

The earth erupted beside Shadow, a shower of sand flying all about. The assassin shielded his face and was hurled clear of the area from the blast, striking into the ground once more. He suppressed a grunt, going limp, trying to make no movements at all of his own volition. He didn't brace himself, didn't shield in any way.

_Crunch!_

He had to bite down on his tongue to keep from screaming in pain as he landed bodily onto one arm, crushing it into a rock. He clinically noted that it was probably broken. Tumbling from the explosion, he seemed a rag doll that had been tossed aside, bouncing every which way, making no resistance at all. He finally came to a halt what seemed hours later, but what was probably seconds, landing on his side. Even as he did, he drew a knife from his belt, preparing to throw it.

Seymour would approach. Get in close for a clean kill. Any sane and rational person who wanted to kill his enemy always did. They didn't take risks, and from Seymour's tactics, Shadow had picked up on that much. It was a gamble, though. As a sorcerer, the man could obliterate Shadow from a distance.

He strained his ears, trying to listen for the man's approach.

He'd been hurled a good distance. It would take Seymour a minute to reach him. Still, it was just a simply manned of waiting. Let Seymour approach, wait for him to stop, ready an attack spell, and then roll to face him as he threw a dagger into the man's chest.

He tried not to watch the other fights that he could see, try to keep his mind focused on the soft sound of boot on sand, but his gaze was riveted on Fujin, watching her battle the dark-skinned man with the staff.

She was doing well. A lot better than he was. He didn't have to worry about her. He could keep his moment on his own fight and--

Fujin apparently dropped her guard for a moment, because instantly, the dark-skinned youth was in a frenzy, landing a dozen blows with his staff in just a few seconds. The albino was on the ground, but not even that seemed to get him to let up. He still kept hitting her, over and over, until finally, she rolled, and he raised the staff over his head...

Shadow had killed his emotions long ago. Or at least, he told himself that. Repeatedly. He wasn't attached to anyone. It was always his own survival. Everyone had to fend for themselves in this world. Or in any world, for that matter. It was the law of the jungle, the rule of survival.

But even though he knew it, he couldn't help but picture what had happened just moments ago as Fujin had cried in his arms. Maybe this man fighting her was Seifer. Shadow didn't know, didn't care, but if that was possible... he'd promised Fujin he'd kill that man. And if it was him...

He knew he had only one chance to kill him before the man killed her. Shadow had to throw his dagger, but to do so would leave him defenceless in the face of Seymour's approach. There would be no way to stop him at that part, and Shadow was not a man known for his ability for self-sacrifice.

The dagger left his hand in a firm throw, aimed at the dark-skinned man's centre mass. From such an awkward position, Shadow's aim was hindered, but even so, at this range...

The dagger went a little lower than expected, sinking into the man's thigh. He let out a scream of pain, dropping his staff. Fujin, battered and bleeding, stood up, taking up the man's weapon, and striking him in the kneecaps with it.

Shadow had no more time to watch her fight. He rolled to face Seymour, the man he knew would be his death. His arm broken, broken, bleeding and burned, he knew he could not dodge in time. He stared Seymour in his eyes, trying to keep his mind on the killing intent on them, and tried to keep his mind off the fact that he would be killed by a man with the most idiotic haircut in the universe.

Seymour raised a hand, red energy swirling about it.

Shadow refused to close his eyes. He would see his end. He would not cower away from it. He would meet it head on, unflinching.

And was shocked to see the charging form of Cyan move in and slash Seymour across the chest. The sorcerer let out a bellow of pain and stumbled back, but Cyan was on the man, pressing the attack, hacking and slashing, all the while screaming his defiance at the man. Instantly a shield of energy was erected between the two, but still Cyan attacked, determined to get at his enemy. Shadow slowly struggled to stand up, and drew a fresh dagger. He didn't throw it, readying for when the shield dropped so he could claim the kill.

Seymour made a contemptuous gesture of one hand, and Cyan was flung aside by a blaze of lightning, but even as he moved to throw another barrage of mystical energy, Fujin was there, striking at the shield with her former opponent's staff. Seymour seemed more annoyed than anything, and waved a hand at her, a burst of lightning sending her in the opposite direction than the one that had hit Cyan.

Broken arm dangling useless to one side, Shadow crouched, prepared to hurl himself at Seymour in a last-ditch effort to kill the man. It was suicide, he knew. But there was no other way. He had to. He focused his mind, thinking more clearly about 'do or die', as opposed to 'do and die.'

He didn't let loose a bellow of rage or defiance as he charged. He didn't let loose a war cry as he closed the distance. He didn't need to. He was Shadow. Silence was his call to arms.

Seymour raised a hand, that same superior smirk on his face. This was it. This was the end. Somehow, Shadow expected it to be by someone that looked a little more masculine.

A column of white flared between the two combatants, erupting in a blaze of incredible energy, stopping Shadow dead in his tracks and hurling Seymour back a few feet. Adjusting his eyes, Shadow held his one good hand up, shielding his face from the intense light. It faded quickly, and where there once had been open air between him and Seymour, there was now a woman standing there in _very _little clothing.

The garments were strange to Shadow, but they appeared partially for travel-use, and partially for aesthetics. Likely, the woman was making a fashion statement. One saying, 'I like to traipse around half-naked.' He didn't care. She was a distraction. And that was all he needed. Drawing a shuriken from his belt, he prepared to throw it, when Seymour yelled in a startled voice, "Yuna!"

The woman, obviously recognizing the spellcaster, drew two pistols and immediately began to fire. Bullets ricocheted off the shield around him. Her aim wasn't precise, her targetting unfocused. Clearly she was firing off for the sake of firing off. Speed being more preferable than accuracy. But even so, in this case, it worked. The spell protecting the man clearly began to fade, and in a panic, he hurled a lightning bolt at the woman. Obviously anticipating it, she dodged aside, and with a startled oath, Shadow did as well, realizing that he was also in its path of destruction.

Yuna recovered quickly, but Shadow was up quicker. His shuriken sailed through the air, and passing through where the shielding spell had once been, plunged directly into Seymour's throat. The man let out a startled gurgle, but no blood issued from the wound. Instead, the man began to deteriorate quickly, a mass of sparks and floating energy.

The woman turned to face Shadow, and said simply, "He'll be back. He always comes back."

Scowling under his mask, Shadow was forced to agree. He might not know the man, but he knew his type. They _always _came back.

"Where am I? What's going on here?" the woman asked, looking about, surveying the battles around her, but doing nothing to help either side. Shadow looked, too, and noticed that his allies were all hard-pressed. Rufus and Vincent were both hiding behind cover, side-by-side. Kain was clearly having a difficult time against Ultros, and Amarant appeared to be having his tail handed to him by the little girl he'd chosen to fight.

"You're in the middle of a shitstorm," Shadow said. He continued, an obvious note of hesitation in his voice. "I ... We need your help, whoever you are. We need to get out of here, and I can't carry them both by myself."

He gestured to Cyan and Fujin with his good arm, and the woman looked at him appraisingly. She calmly walked up to him, holstering her weapons, and lightly gripped his broken arm. "This will hurt."

"It always does," he said, clenching his teeth.

She abruptly jerked on his arm, and he ground his teeth and closed his eyes as his world became a torrent of pain. He felt a slight surge of magical energy pour into it, a calming and soothing feeling, like a cold breeze on a summer night. When it was done, he could still feel pain in his arm, but it was lessened. He gave a few experimental flexes, and winced.

"It's not perfect," Yuna said. "I normally need to access a sphere to access my old magic, but this place... everything here is different. The magic, the air, everything..."

"We can talk about it later," Shadow said. "You'll probably need the 'unique situation' speech. Kain likes to give it. But for now... Kain! Amarant! To me! Vincent, Rufus! Retreat!"

He wasn't sure if anyone heard him. He didn't look to find out. He leaned down and grabbed Cyan, hoisting the man somewhat, half-carrying, half-dragging him. Yuna bent and managed to pick up Fujin, stumbling slightly under the weight.

"Get out of here!" Shadow called. "We can't win!"

He began to limp into the night, Yuna alongside him, both carrying their allies. Behind him he heard the echo of continued battle and gunfire. He tried to pay it no mind. They would have to regroup later. He wasn't abandoning them, like he had done to so many allies in the past. He just had to keep that at the forefront of his mind.

Author's Notes:

This is the **last** chapter of Tyramir's which will feature a prologue. Mostly because I ran out of ideas, and because my main two plot lines finally intersected. I apologize for the delay. There was really nothing to do considering the forced rewrite of the ending.

We'd like to thank **Ayadin, Yuleen75** (Twice, for writing the review for the last chapter, and for this one, before the final cut was put up! We really didn't realize that a large chunk was missing when this was uploaded! Sorry!), **Rakunya, Ayri, Alpha2Omega, Macky, **and **Lionheart1987.** Oh, and **Brutal2003** for the heck of it.


	32. Lunatics and Guardians

**Previously in Final Trinity...**

Just returned from an alternate dimension, **Squall** and his band of SeeD have become separated; **Irvine** and **Quistis **sent to find the airship **Ragnarok** which they will then use to locate their missing **Garden**, and Squall staying at the **Timber Garden Safehouse** to interrogate **Locke Cole**. During his inquisition, **Galbadian soldiers** raided the hideout and captured the SeeD leader, but not before he allowed enough time for Locke and **Avira** to escape. After a search of the area, the Galbadians captured Squall, Locke and the mysteriously recovered **Cloud Strife**, and took them to **Deling City**. **Kefka**, who is looking for Locke as the **Lunatic Pandora** appears above the city, attacks their train transport. Meanwhile, **Zidane** and Avira are ambushed and shot by **Tseng**, leaving his former protégé **Reno** to flee for his life in the **Timber TV Station**.

Chapter Thirty Two

Lunatics and Guardians

_The ceiling. _

_I'm okay. _

_He thinks I'm dead._

_What about Reno?_

_No. He can't know what I really am._

_I'm safe. I should leave. Get into another dimension._

_But…I'm the reason he's here._

_I can't just leave him._

_Just because I'm different now doesn't make me a monster._

_I have to go help him._

_Even though he wouldn't do the same thing for me._

_And then I have to kill Tseng.  
_

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

The roof of the train carriage peeled away like the steel was paper, and the carriage itself ripped in half; the half Squall was in careening away to collide with another solid structure. The carriage was on its side, the cages lying flat against the ground.

Cloud was watching in stunned silence. Locke was screeching incoherently. Caraway was barking orders at some of his men.

Squall realised he was probably concussed. He tried to rouse himself from the stupor he was experiencing, but the physical effort was too much. Besides, this couldn't be real. No one was powerful enough to do the things this Kefka was doing.

Three Galbadian soldiers fired their shotguns simultaneously. Kefka brushed his hand imperiously to one side, and the shrapnel was caught in some invisible force, sweeping past Kefka and lacing the nearby wall with holes.

Where were they? The SeeD leader looked up and tried to absorb his surroundings.

Cargo containers overhead. Other trains surrounding them. Railway tracks on the ground. They were probably in the main military train depot inside Deling City.

Deling… He looked further up and saw the immense shape of the Lunatic Pandora looming above them. He tried to look for the timer Caraway had found with Cloud, but it must have been thrown far from here when the carriage split open.

Caraway was above him now, screaming something at him. Squall couldn't even hear what he was saying, let alone try and make sense of it. He just gazed up stupidly at the Galbadian military official. Something warm and sticky started to flow across his forehead. He felt it, looked at the residue on his hand. It looked like blood, but he had previously established that this must be some kind of dream, so that didn't make any sense.

Caraway leaned across and hit a switch with the hand that wasn't holding a weapon. The cage door popped open above him, and the General swung it fully open, hauling Squall out and onto the dirt ground of the depot. He started to glow with a green light, and then placed his hands on either side of Squall's head.

Almost at once, the fog lifted from Squall's mind, and he realised Caraway had Cured him. The sounds, sights and sensations that were flooding around him hit him all at once.

The Galbadian soldier screaming in pain as Kefka, ten feet away, pulled his clenched fists apart, and the soldier's body following the motion in a sickening action that had Squall clenching his teeth together instantly. Locke, beyond sanity, lashing himself against the metal cage trying to escape from the newcomer. Cloud watching it all in muted fascination – maybe he had been concussed too. Then again, maybe he had sunk back into the catatonia he had previously demonstrated. Gunfire echoing around the depot, adding to the carnage.

The other half of the train carriage lay on the other side of the enclosure against some cargo containers. The roof was nowhere to be seen along with the rest of the train – he couldn't even guess where it had ended up, but the most important thing was that the half with the cages, the part Squall was nearest, housed the weapons containers, and inside which lay his gunblade.

Not even waiting for Caraway to explain – he had set the SeeD free to help them against this overwhelming opponent – he sprinted to the weapons locker, pulled his sword out, turned and ran at full speed to Kefka, vaulted into the air and went to drive his gunblade through the back of his enemy.

There was no way – _no way_ – Kefka could stop the hit. Yet Squall saw his arm lash around, bat the air almost playfully in the SeeD's direction, and he was soaring sideways away from his opponent, hit by an invisible, overwhelming force, and smashed into the side of a cargo container.

He shook his head, his mind still refusing to accept that Kefka could be responsible for so much destruction, and went to run back towards the cackling man. Before he took three paces, he lifted up off the ground, flew over Kefka's head, turned upside down and smashed into an opposing container, sliding down to land on his head.

A ripple, a plume of invisible energy, shot through the dirt and gravel travelled towards him, and he rolled out of the way as the energy reached the bottom of the cargo container, splitting the steel apart.

Kefka raised his hands, and two soldiers lifted into the air. He clapped his hands, and the soldiers dropped to the floor in a bloody mess after they collided.

The SeeD tried a direct assault one more time, except that this time he actually got within three feet of his target unmolested. He swung sideways with his gunblade, an attack that Kefka ducked under. He brought the sword back up, slashing with precise, fluid movements, and each time the monstrously powerful individual side stepped, ducked, leaned back or moved slightly in some way that Squall would just miss his target.

Ultimately, Squall feigned a strike to Kefka's midsection, and he felt a very slight push against his right leg. As he had placed all his weight on the leg to make his feign, when he delivered his actual attack, his movement was slightly off. The pointed edge of the weapon drove straight towards Kefka's throat, and he made no move to avoid it.

The edge stopped short two inches from making contact with his flesh. Kefka stood there, glaring haughtily at the SeeD for two full seconds, and then flicked the finger on his right hand. Squall felt the air rush out of his lungs, and he soared backwards again, victim to one of the maniac's invisible psychic assaults. He crashed into the metal of a cargo container, but he remained pinned to it, suspended eight feet in the air.

"Do you care to reconsider?" he asked of Squall, ignoring General Caraway who stood but four meters away. "Give up the thief, and I'll let you all live."

Squall's eyes met with Caraway's.

"No," said the SeeD slowly as he saw the acquiescence in his eyes. "No!"

"You care that much about this man, Squall? Look around you. I'm not going to throw away more of my men's lives on this anonymous 'thief.' Look _above_ you. We have less than ten minutes left before that thing goes off. Do you want to die?"

Squall, normally of higher morals, felt his answer choke in his throat. He surprised himself by giving in so easily to the General's argument…but then he realised that it wasn't him constricting the muscles in his throat. He had been rendered speechless by a much more subtle psychic movement.

The General moved to Locke's cage, where he still screamed and raged, confined in his two square feet of space.

LLLLLLLLLLLLL

Reno's breath was ragged in his chest, his legs felt like they were on fire, and his ribs felt like they were going to explode, but still in his panicked escape a few vestiges of his training began to reassert themselves. He started to throw things behind him; lock doors, collapsed equipment, and he heard it begin to pay off. Tseng was falling behind; the hassle of blowing locks off of doors and clambering over piles of equipment was becoming a hindrance and slowing him down.

Reno knew as long as he kept running, kept ahead of his old boss, then he would be alright. In his experience, the most likely time you would lose a target was when they bolted. Especially into a crowd of people. Unfortunately, there wasn't one of those handy.

He also knew that the best way of catching someone who had bolted was to keep as close as you could behind them, and eventually they would run out of stamina, or get caught on something hanging overhead, or even simply lose their footing. It didn't matter, because eventually, everybody who ran stumbled and fell, and as long as you made sure that you didn't stumble and fall first, then the target was yours.

He knew that this was what Tseng was doing, because Tseng had taught him how to do it. Everything he could conceive of doing, Tseng would doubtlessly know and counteract the action.

He reached a square corner of the corridor. Even as he was thinking of it, as he told himself _not to do it,_ he felt his right foot lose traction slightly on the floor beneath him. He knew it would be fine, that it was only a slight extra movement that he could carry on running despite it, however his body's reflexive action took over and he tried to compensate with the other foot – this caused him to slip even more on his left, and so a chain of events occurred that inevitably led him to crash into the wall of the corner, and land in a heap on the floor.

He knew he was dead, even if he managed to get back up and start running again immediately. Tseng was too close behind him.

The footsteps echoed just ahead of the man himself. When he saw that Reno was slumped on the ground, he started to slow to a walk.

Reno, again a slave to reflex, jerked as if to try and jump up to escape, but he relaxed, allowing himself to simply accept the inevitable. If anyone was going to kill him, he could think of worse people than Tseng to do it, and it wasn't like he had anything left to live for.

All business now, Tseng reached the optimal range for the pistol he was using – approximately four feet – and stood for a moment observing his former subordinate.

Then he raised his pistol and clenched the trigger.

Reno blinked as the shot drove home, shocked into paralysis, and watched Tseng grit his teeth together, start to tremble, and then collapse to the ground.

He sat dumbfounded as another two ghosts from the more recent past jogged up the hallway, two cables reaching from Tseng's back and leading up into a device in the male's hand. He kneeled to remove the ends of the cables while the female came to kneel in front of Reno.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

He frowned. "Am I dead?"

She shook her head gravely, and the male ran to join them, his tail swaying behind him high in the air.

"No, he missed, see?" he said, poking a hole in the wall next to Reno's head. Powdered concrete fell to the ground in a fine mist.

"Then how…?"

"I'll explain that later."

Zidane and Avira hauled him to his feet. He realised – if this wasn't some kind of illusion – that Tseng wasn't dead, simply stunned.

He marched to his mentor's body, picked up his weapon, held it to the older man's temple, and fired with a great satisfaction.

Unfortunately, it clicked empty.

"Oh, fuck," said Reno, the cockiness flooding out of him again. Tseng's hand started to move.

"Uhm…we should run," he suggested to the other two, and they followed him as he fled down the corridor.

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

Embedded into one of Squall's teeth – bottom row, second from the back on the right – was an emergency transmitter that warned nearby SeeDs of dangers and threats to their compatriots; essentially, an SOS signal generator.

Squall, as he watched five soldiers wrestle Locke out of his cage barely successfully, grit his teeth in such a way that the transmitter was activated. It was located in different places for different SeeDs, for example he happened to know that Quistis had chosen for hers to be placed in her right arm. He activated it because he really needed the cavalry to arrive, and because it was pretty much the only part of his body he could still move.

Locke was carted across, heavily restrained, to the centre of the train depot. He was practically sobbing with frustration; Squall didn't know what the two men's history was, but it must be profound for Locke to be acting in such a way.

Caraway had rediscovered the timer; Squall could just about make out the figures on the readout, it displayed just over eight minutes remaining until the Lunar Cry hit the city.

"There," called Caraway. "Is that satisfactory?"

Kefka observed the so-called thief kneeling before him, and then threw his head back into the air, cackling insanely.

"You dumb asshole! It's more than satisfactory!"

He waved with his left hand – the guard standing near Locke almost disappeared he was thrown back so quickly. Kefka clenched his right fist – the other soldier doubled over in pain, his chest contorting. The madman brought his fist down, and the guard slammed into the ground, haemorrhaging from between his ribs.

Squall felt the steel against his back begin to move, and he winced, anticipating a similar fate. However he simply slid to the ground, free of the grip of the newcomer's mind.

Locke skidded across the dirt and gravel following a similar motion on the part of Kefka, while part of Caraway's guard found themselves scattered like bowling pins.

A shriek sounded from the train carriage, and the cage that Squall had occupied ripped free of the enclosing structure. It came to a stop just beside Locke, and the treasure hunter was rolled into the metal bars, the door of the cage closing behind him.

With Kefka's attention focussed entirely on decimating the Galbadian's rapidly diminishing presence, Squall ran to where Caraway stood staring open mouthed at the carnage before him.

"We have to get out of here!"

"What…?"

"Caraway, snap out of it. We have to leave here, _now._"

"But…he's a threat to the Galbadian nation…"

"Listen to yourself! There won't _be_ a Galbadian nation! In…six minutes, this entire city is going to be destroyed – let him be swallowed up with it!"

"I can't just abandon my duties!"

Squall could see Caraway was sunk in shock, and abandoned their one sided conversation, grabbing the timer from him as he left.

Kefka had flicked the cage into the centre of the depot yard, and was now busy wrenching a cargo container from a crane overhead. Squall glanced around for a way to prevent Kefka from harming Locke, and saw it in the form of a control panel at the foot of the crane.

He ran to and activated it, just as Kefka plummeted the massive metal container towards the cage Locke was trapped in below. The giant electromagnet Squall activated sucked the storage crate back to the crane, and Kefka started to wrestle with it, unprepared for the sudden backlash.

There were no Galbadian soldiers. A crowd of civilians had been drawn from the nearby commercial train depot, and they watched at a distance, probably safe. A bloody mess that carpeted the ground was all that remained of the military. Caraway had vanished, maybe to join his companions in their new capacity.

The timer read two minutes.

Squall sprinted across to where Locke lay, still screaming, to try and pry the cage open. He saw that Kefka had twisted the metal bars closed, binding them together so that Squall had little chance of unravelling them.

Locke was twisting himself around, writhing in his confined space, shedding layers of the restraining devices the soldiers had placed on him.

"Get me out of here!" he gasped.

Squall dropped his gunblade and tried to wrench the steel bars apart, and failed miserably. He looked back to check on Kefka's progress with the cargo container, and saw that he was rapidly dismantling the crane, trying to find the power source of the electromagnet.

"The floor!" Locke cried, clearly panicked, but calmer than before. He had freed his legs and started to kick at the metal base of the cage, which must have been weakened by being torn from the body of the train carriage.

Squall picked up his gunblade and started hammering on the metal sheet with the pommel. The crane behind them shattered forcibly to the ground, Kefka having destroyed all of its supports.

The cargo container clanged into the still active electromagnet, and the cage started to slide along the ground towards the giant device. Squall dropped his weapon and jumped onto the cage. Kefka howled in frustration, having lost his mental grip on the giant metal box.

The cage shot across the ground faster as it neared the electromagnet, Squall clinging to the side of it, praying the cage didn't flip around and crush him between the two imminent partners.

Kefka reached with his mind and grabbed another cargo container from the top of another nearby pile. Unnoticed, the stack shifted slightly due to Kefka's excessive enthusiasm in finding a replacement projectile.

Locke was rattled as the cage hit the smooth metallic surface of the magnet, and the impact shook the metal bottom free, and the treasure hunter wriggled out of his prison. He ran away, but halted in his tracks when he heard Squall's cry.

"Wait!"

He was pinned to the electromagnet. The cage had, mercifully, thrown him free of being crushed. He was trying to struggle free of his arm and neck, which were being held against the magnet. His hand by a ring, and his neck by a chained necklace.

Locke ran back and started to work Squall's finger free of the ring. Kefka had raised his hands above his head, laughing insanely, the new cargo container poised for his attack. Squall's finger popped free of the ring.

"Now, thief, _now_ I'll smash you open, and find what you took from me inside!"

He threw the container. Trembling, Squall tried to unclasp the necklace but his hands shook too badly. Locke grabbed the chain and wrenched at it as hard as he could physically manage. The clasp of the necklace snapped under the extreme pressure, and it fell onto the surface of the magnet with a light clang.

Squall went to try and pry the metal chain from the magnet, but Locke grabbed the back of his jacket and pulled him away. They had just cleared the magnet when the container slammed into it, sinking into the ground with the force of its arrival.

"Griever," Squall was saying, under his breath. "Griever."

Kefka yelled incoherently at them, and picked up another storage container and went to throw it at them, but the movement upset the stack it sat on.

The stack of boxes slid sideways across the ground, attracted by the elctromagnet, moving faster the nearer it got to it. Kefka didn't notice it until the last moment, and when he did he threw the container he had a mental hold on into the stack, in the hope of stopping them hitting him, but this just collapsed the pile onto him. They swept him along with them, and he screamed once, which cut off in the same crunching noise the containers made when they hit the magnet.

Several of the large metallic boxes popped as they were crushed by their contemporaries sinking deeper into the pile, drawn by the electromagnet, until finally, they were silent.

Squall sank to the floor, gasping, and Locke supported himself with hands on knees to get a breather.

Cloud, still strangely sedate, hadn't even looked up during the whole encounter. He sat on the floor in front of the torn apart train carriage, having somehow escaped his cage.

"Don't try and save them all," he said. Squall looked at him oddly. "You'll have to leave them behind." Silence for a few moments as he cocked his head, looking at something beyond this world. "I can see… All of it." Then he blinked and shook his head, confusion flooding his face. "Where are we?"

Squall ignored the question, feeling his neck meditatively.

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

Zidane ran alongside Avira and Reno, away from Tseng, further into the TV station headquarters in the town of Timber. Reno was being his usual, aggressive self.

"I think I get Avira here being alive. Your daddy never shot you, did he? If he did, he might've found out that the Jenova cells would regenerate you. That's what it seems to me, anyway. But you," he turned to Zidane, "I saw you get shot. What gives?"

He shouldn't tell Reno. No one was supposed to know. "I guess I just got lucky."

"Bullshit. He shot you through the heart. And then _in the face._ They were good hits. Something's going on, and if we weren't running for our lives right now, I would so stop and kick your ass until you told me."

Zidane sighed. Could he do it? Cast aside his duty and just tell him? Would he risk being shot by Reno when he found out the truth? He decided that the time had come to cast a light on his life.

He pointed to a door up ahead, and they flew into it. He slid the door closed, and there was a half-foot of steel in between them and their pursuer. A workstation illuminated the otherwise dim room. He pointed to it.

"Avira, you'll be able to send out a signal on that device. Radio to Irvine and Quistis, get them over here in the Ragnarok to pick us up."

Avira nodded and set to work. Reno sneered at him.

"So how about it, monkey boy? We've got some time all of a sudden. Tseng isn't armed, and there's only one other exit to this room. You've found us a nice hidey-hole. Are you gonna do some explaining?"

Zidane sighed. "Yeah." Trouble was, he didn't know where to begin.

"Try starting at the beginning," suggested Reno, sensing his trouble. Zidane nodded.

"I told you about how I nearly died. Next to Kuja, in the Iifa Tree."

"Yeah, I remember that. Except I have no idea what you just said – Eefa? Eye-eefa? You just said the word and I have no idea how to pronounce it."

" It was collapsing on us, and there were only moments left. I told you I saw a portal and escaped through it. Now, that happened. But that's not all of what happened."

"No shit."

"I didn't notice the portal until a man stepped through it. He told me to jump through, and so I did, and he closed it behind me so Kuja couldn't leave. It was so strange – I was lying inside a giant, Mist making tree, and the next I'm in a void. That's the only way I can think to describe it. There was nothing there, no stars in the sky, no sun or moon…no light, even. The man told me I was standing in the Negative Zone, and that there were only three things that existed there – the Path, the monsters, and the endless emptiness."

"So who's the dude who saved you?"

"His name is Golbez. He told me that I would have died in that place, and that I was now living on borrowed time. He said that only people like me, who had escaped their fated death, leaving no witnesses behind, could join him and his ranks of warriors."

"The hell? Run that by me again?"

"I would have died. No one would have seen me die. Everyone in my home dimension thinks I'm dead. Except Kuja, but he must have died in the Tree. That's the only way I could join Golbez as a Guardian. My life had run its course, and by removing me from my dimension he didn't affect the course of events there. He's kept it on course, without interfering. Get it?"

"Yeah. What's a Guardian?"

"I was getting to that. There's Golbez, and he's asleep somewhere. He can project himself across worlds and dimensions, but he can't do anything himself. He has to gather Guardians around him to protect his race, who are all asleep. They have many names, but Golbez calls them the Lunarians."

"Okay, right, blah blah blah. Skip to the interesting bit, we're saf_er_ here, but Tseng is still out there."

"Golbez told me I could become one of his Guardians, or I could go back to where I came from. Given the choice, I stuck with life rather than death. The condition was, he was the boss, and I could never, ever return to my home dimension."

"So that talk before about 'trying to find a way home' was a load of crap."

"I'm glad you're paying attention – yeah, that's the general idea."

"So you're Golbez's…" he paused, unwilling to complete the sentence because of the horribly bad pun.

"Monkey boy? Yeah, you could say that."

"So why did you come with us?"

Zidane evaded the question slightly. "I became the Guardian of Air, and my task is to travel around, fixing any dimensional leaks. If someone gets lost in another dimension, I find them and send them home. If someone starts meddling where they shouldn't, I fix the problem."

"I'd say we were meddling. That's why you dropped in on us. It wasn't an accident, you were trying to send Squall and the others back home."

"Yeah. I talked the others out of just killing you all. They're a lot more direct than me. One of the others was going to deal with you first, even travelled with you, but I went to Gilgamesh and told him I'd deal with it. He agreed – he'd rather I did it than the newbie. So we switched, and I was meant to fix the problem."

"Kill us, you mean?" accused Reno.

"No. Not at first. I was trying to just get everyone back where they belonged, but you weren't having any of that. I thought if Squall could just find out where that Materia came from he would give it up and go home. But Quistis had to go and get herself captured, and you ended up at that Tower."

"So where _did_ you come from in the Tower?"

"I used a portal, dummy. I was in another part of that dimension trying to fix another problem. We've been busy lately. When that situation resolved itself, I came back to you guys. Lucky I did, because you'd all be dead now."

"Hmm, true. But that doesn't answer my original question – how did you survive being shot? Twice?"

"Part of being the Guardian of Air means I have special physical abilities. A bit like Avira, except I can control mine a lot better. I can change parts of my body into air, and that's what I did. I know Tseng uses head and heart shots when he shoots, so I managed to avoid being hit. I pretended I had been so I could sneak up on him later."

"And why is Tseng here?"

"To kill us, you heard him earlier."

"Yeah, but why? He's good at it, but he doesn't run around dropping people just for kicks."

"You two, to finish my assignment; fix the problem of Squall and the others. Originally, they would've just killed Squall, Quistis and Irvine, but you're in the wrong dimension now, and you've become a part of the problem."

"And you?"

"I'm no longer the Guardian of Air. We all share a small mental link, it lets us know new orders, who's around us, what's going on. When I helped you escape from the Shinra Tower, the link let the others know I'd gone against Golbez's wishes and I was ejected from their ranks. Now I'm just someone else in the wrong dimension. A problem needing fixing."

"Is that what happened to Tseng? I thought he was dead."

"Yes. He never told me how he became it, but he's the Guardian of Water."

"Makes sense," said Reno, thinking of his former boss's Wutaiian heritage, and how they were affiliated with Leviathan, their God of water. "What's his power?"

"I'm not sure, as he doesn't like to use it. But it has something to do with water – he can probably manipulate it somehow."

"Well, that makes things even worse," said Reno, moving back into action gear. "Now he has special powers _as well_ as knowing everything I know."

"You know him well?"

"He trained me; he was my boss."

They stood pondering the situation silently.

Avira was the first to speak. "The transmission has been sent. The others should be on their way soon."

"Good. Then we only have to worry about surviving so long. We just have to get to the roof, hopefully find something we can use as a weapon, and just barricade ourselves up there. Unless Tseng can fly, which I don't think he can, we should be _here._"

Zidane shook his head, and Reno looked at him expectantly.

"Good. I have them cornered in the TV station. Conventional weaponry seems to be ineffective against them."

"_We could always try my approach and chop them into tiny pieces."_

"_My thoughts exactly. When can you…"_ The thought trailed off as Zidane listened intently. _"Ah, Zidane. I didn't realise a former Guardian was capable of listening through our link, although this is the first time one has been disgraced and left our Order. Now, where are you hiding…?"_

Zidane snapped his eyes closed, unaware that Reno was talking at him. He was listening with something other than his ears now.

"Hmm, it's a shame I'm unfamiliar with this building, or that brief glance would have provided me your location. I would advise you to withdraw from the link, lest you give something else away. Oh, and before you go…Gilgamesh is here. Pray that I find you first, because I will take no pleasure in your death. I think Gilgamesh is quite looking forward to it."

He felt the presence of Tseng from his mind slip away. He opened his eyes to find he had sunken to the floor, Reno standing over him yammering.

"…listening to me?"

"No. You need to get to the roof. I just spoke with Tseng. He thinks we're going to run, he doesn't know the Ragnarok is on the way."

"That won't work. He'll know that we're _not_ making a run for it, and head to the roof. It'll buy us a few minutes at most."

"I said _you_ have to head for the roof. I'm going to go and face them."

Reno seemed speechless for a moment, and then regained his composure. "Them?"

"Gilgamesh is here. You might have seen him before. Four arms, bad attitude, slight personal hygiene problem? He was in the Tower with us."

"I remember. No offence kiddo, but Tseng will tear you to pieces. And if Gilgamesh is as mean as he looks…"

"I know. But I owe it to you both for getting you in this mess. They're coming after me, really, if you could find a way back home, they would probably stop following you."

Reno paused for a moment, and then shrugged faintly. "Well, it's your funeral, pal. C'mon Avira, let's go."

The Turk took Avira by the arm and led her firmly out of the room. Zidane waited for a few moments, and then left through the opposite doorway.

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

Deep within the pile of magnetised cargo containers, close to the surface of the magnet itself, lay the timer. Abandoned by Squall during their mad escape from Kefka and the Galbadians.

It was still functioning.

00:00:03

00:00:02

00:00:01

00:00:00

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

"We're in Deling City," said Locke, responding to Cloud's confused question. "Wherever that is." He turned to Squall. "What is Griever?"

"He's my good luck charm. What I remind myself with that I'm capable of anything. He's my worst fear…Griever is a lot of things. But he's gone now, lost in that pile of metal boxes."

Above them, faint mechanised whirring reached their ears. Squall looked up, and snapped out of whatever trance he had sunk into. He stood to look at the sky.

The Lunatic Pandora started to glow along the sides of its point. The light seemed to stretch up into the sky towards the moon, which was clearly visible despite the daylight.

It turned a deep, blood red astonishingly quickly. Locke's jaw dropped open.

"Does it do that often?"

"Only during a Lunar Cry," replied Squall grimly.

The red mass seemed to start to boil, visible even from that great distance. And then it started to bubble along the light from the Lunatic Pandora, down towards the city.

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

Irvine and Quistis sat at the controls in the cockpit of the Ragnarok. Occasionally Irvine would try and engage Quistis in conversation, but she seemed content to sit in silence, so ultimately he let her be. She would heal in her own time.

"Nothing," she said. She was scanning for transmissions from the Garden, and Irvine was conducting a visual search of its last known location somewhere between Trabia and Balamb. He had to admit it, he missed flying around in the advanced aircraft; it beat taking the train. Usually by several hours, and without any strange dreams about the past.

"Nothing too. It's not here," he said. "I'll take us along its path to Trabia, I didn't spot it coming up from Balamb. It might be parked near the ruins on a relief mission still."

Quistis nodded her assent, and an alarm started beeping on the control panel. She excitedly pulled up the communications monitor she had just closed on her screen, and looked slightly downcast for doing so.

"It's not from the Garden. Hang on…it's a distress beacon. Squall's distress beacon."

"Huh?" asked Irvine. As far as he knew, Squall was in Timber, holed up at their office still.

"It's only part of the signal though…there's a lot of interference."

"I didn't think there was any signal interference since Adel's stasis chamber shut down!"

"There shouldn't be. The only thing I can think of is that there's a source of massive magical energy nearby."

"…The Sorceress? But why would Rinoa be creating interference?"

"I'm not sure. But whatever the reason, it's what made Squall activate his emergency beacon."

"Where is he?"

"That's the trouble; that part of the transmission has been lost to the background static. It just says he's in trouble."

Irvine went to ponder the situation when the same alarm sounded. Quistis flicked the switch to view the transmission almost instantly.

"Another distress call, this one is a lot clearer, it must be coming from a more powerful transmitter. It's coming from Timber – the TV station."

"It must be Squall. He must've known about the interference and sent another signal to make sure we got it. We've gotta get back to Timber."

"Agreed."

Irvine rotated the craft and punched the engines. The Ragnarok blasted away at incredible speed.

Towards Timber.

LLLLLLLLLLLLLL

Author's Notes:

Ugh. The site is still giving us trouble, so we still have those unsightly "LLLLLLLLLLLLLL"'s denoting line breaks. Grrr... Anyway. If you read **the last chapter** more than a week ago, **read it again.** Seriously. Somehow the main document got corrupted in the time I saved it, sent it to be edited, and then posted it, and we lost the last little bit. So if you read that chapter, and the big brawl **was not concluded, then you have to read it again.**

Anyway, on to the sucking up... uh... thanking people for reading and reviewing us. Thank you to all who actually read this, especially to **Thunderstorm101, Rakunya, Reborn-Dragon, Macky, Brutal2003, Ayadin, **and **Yuleen75. **

Urgh. I'd say more, but I'm a little hung over from my birthday party last night. More booze is required to fix this.


	33. Invincible

**Previously in Final Trinity...**

Working for someone named **Ajuk**, **Siegfried** was recruited to assassinate **Kain Highwind**. However, Siegfried became distracted by the lure of a different bounty, that of **Clyde Arrowny,** the man known to the world as **Shadow**. Fatally wounded, Siegfried was healed by a displeased Ajuk, and told to recruit others like him. Given an enchanted rapier, Siegfried recruited others to his cause, such as **Lani, Ultros, Elena, Lucrecia, Raijin, **and **Seymour.**

Meanwhile, Kain's group was ordered by **Golbez** to find an **airship**, that was located due north of their camp.

Siegfried and Kain's groups finally met up, and during the ensuing battle, the Dragoon's side was soundly defeated. Only the sudden appearance of **Yuna** allowed the group to escape alive, but even so, they were forced to split up in order to ensure their escape...

Chapter Thirty Three

Invincible

"Come on, Highwind, you son of a bitch," Amarant growled. "If you don't start carryin' your weight, I'll leave you for those guys back there."

Kain grunted, staggering forward, but still mostly leaning on Amarant for support. Neither had said much since the retreat. Not that either of them were particularly chatty, but even so, the silence was noticeable. Both men had their pride, and the idea of running like cowards didn't appeal to either. Especially Amarant. Ever since he'd joined Kain's little group, he'd felt something tugging at him. He wasn't sure what it was, but he hadn't felt like this since... Well, since he'd last seen Zidane. Well, before that time in Shinra Tower. Amarant was still trying to work out how he felt seeing the little monkey-boy again. Something didn't quite seem right with his sudden reappearance, and on a different world, no less. At least Amarant had an excuse to be dimension hopping. What was Zidane's? And where had he been since the last battle against Kuja?

The mercenary tried to push it from his mind, but even as he did, other thoughts came to him. Mercenary. Was he even really a 'mercenary' any more. He'd been trying to avoid it. Mercenaries were practical men who did evil things to earn a living. They weren't 'villains,' but they sure as hell weren't heroes either. And even though he'd never consider himself one, Amarant had to silently reflect that his actions were recently taking on a heroic slant.

Kain groaned, and Amarant shifted himself in such a way so that he'd take on more of the weight. He was tempted to pick the Dragoon up entirely and carry him. The man obviously was sporting some broken ribs, maybe worse. Pride was what kept him standing, though, and Amarant understood pride. If he picked Highwind up and carried him, what pride would the man have left? Kain's breathing was slowly becoming a ragged rasp. If they weren't careful, his lungs would be punctured on possible bone shard. And then it wouldn't matter if Kain still had his pride or not.

Amarant jerked his head back, scanning the dark horizon for pursuing shapes. He swore as he saw one. He'd thought he'd lost them an hour back. Thought they'd be smart enough not to chase him in the night. Smart enough not to chase _any_ of his companions into the night. Amarant considered himself all levels of badass, but when it came to fighting in the dark, he was willing to bet there'd be no one in _any_ world who could beat Vincent Valentine or Shadow. Anyone stupid enough to chase them in the night deserved what they got.

Stopping, Amarant lowered Kain to the ground. The man looked at him questioning, and opened his mouth as if to ask him what he was doing, when he suddenly coughed, a blackish fluid coming from his mouth. Swearing again, Amarant immediately began to peel the armour off his companion. He glanced back. The figure on the starlit horizon was getting closer. It was too dark to make out who it was, though. He flexed his arms experimentally. His muscles still felt on fire from the battle in Shinra Tower, and pain lanced through him from his shoulder where Lani had stabbed him. Still, he had more than enough in him to take a lone person in the dark as long as the element of surprise was on his side.

He didn't bother to explain what he was doing to Highwind. There was no time, and he couldn't risk the noise. Keeping his bulk as low to the ground as possible, he crawled away on hands and knees, leaving the Dragoon out in the open, gasping for breath, mixed with a slight gurgling sound. With luck, Highwind would still be alive in a few minutes. If not... well, Amarant never liked taking orders anyway.

Keeping his ears trained on Kain's laboured breathing, Amarant watching the approaching figure shamble ever so closer. He frowned. It was too wide to be a normal person. Not one of the people who'd been chasing them, anyway. The only one close enough in size would be the dumb looking octopus, and that thing was much larger, and had tentacles coming out everywhere, allowing it to drag itself along the land.

The figure stumbled closer, then abruptly stopped, pointing a hand directly at Kain. Why would someone gesture like that at a target before moving? It'd make more sense just to move towards it as opposed to pointing it out to yourself.

Unless, of course, you were gesturing to someone else. The figure began to move towards Kain, and Amarant prepared to launch himself at this unknown. But even as he did, the figure stopped again, and a hand was pointed directly at him, and a voice called, "Amarant."

He recognized it. Valentine.

Standing up, he moved closer, and saw that it was Rufus Shinra holding up the maroon cloaked assassin. In the poor light, Amarant could see that Valentine was wrapped in torn pieces of his own cloak, bandaging up his middle. He couldn't tell if they were soaked in blood or not, but the stink of it filled the air.

"Help me with Highwind," Amarant said.

Rufus, half-carrying Valentine, followed, then set the Turk down alongside the Dragoon. Vincent fumbled with the green orb set in place on his armoured arm, and appeared to focus on it and Kain at the same time.

"No good," Vincent said. "The Full Cure Materia may have few limits, but I do. I'm too drained to use it at the moment from trying to heal my own wounds."

"Then let me use it," Rufus said. "I know how. I can heal both him and you more fully, and then I won't have to carry you everywhere."

There was a moment of hesitation, a narrowing of Valentine's eyes before he reached for the Materia and pulled it from his gauntlet. He handed it over to Rufus slowly, but the man was quick to take it and begin using it. A green light shimmered around him as magic poured from him and into Kain. The man let out a sputtering couch, letting loose the last of the blackish blood that had threatened to kill him, and rolled weakly to his side, but did not get up.

Rufus, his face drenched in sweat, shook his head. "I don't have the ... experience necessary to do a full healing. I don't think I can do that again."

"You did enough so we can get movin' again," Amarant said.

Vincent nodded his agreement. "We have to get moving now. Odds are, someone saw that green light."

Kain was capable of walking on his own afterwards, as was Vincent, but both occasionally stumbled, not completely steady on their feet yet. Amarant was always there, ready to catch them should they fall. The large mercenary wasn't entirely sure why. He didn't particularly care if either of them fell on their faces, and if they fell behind, he'd just leave them. It made him think, and he hated that.

Rufus, on the other hand, seemed particularly unconcerned for the health of his allies. He cradled his gun with an almost loving care, and kept glancing back, to the point where he himself nearly tripped several times for lack of attention to the ground.

In the distance, Amarant could see a large shape, a small mountain. He altered his course slightly, making way for it. They'd need water soon, and where there were mountains, there was water. Dawn was approaching when Vincent suddenly said, "That isn't a mountain."

They stopped for a moment, all of them looking at him questioningly. He said, "The top's too round. And that peak..." he pointed to leaning spike coming from the top, what appeared to be a pillar of rock that was angling its way to the side and threatening to fall over at any moment, "... isn't resting right. If it were natural, it would have fallen over without something supporting it, and I see no evidence of that."

"Then what is it?" Rufus asked with a sneer.

Amarant let out a growl. Who cared what it was? They were in a desert, and at the very least, it was shade from the sun. Without water, they were screwed. In which case, they would have to rest by day and travel at night in order to keep themselves better prepared. They'd probably have to do that anyway.

"It looks like..." Vincent started, squinting at the horizon ahead. "There's someone on top of it."

Amarant peered ahead, looking at the top of the 'mountain' critically, but couldn't see anything in the poor lighting. The distance didn't help either. They were at least an hour away from it.

"I don't see anything," Kain said.

"I... have good eyes," Vincent said.

With the sun just beginning to come up, the light was neatly absorbed and reflected by the reds of Vincent's irises, giving them an eerie look in the pre-dawn setting. Amarant shuddered, and he saw that he wasn't the only one.

They continued on again, and as they got closer to their destination, the sun rose steadily up, revealing what lay before them. They were nearly on top of it when the light caught it just right, and beneath all the dust and dirt, a soft blue metallic sheen lit up the horizon.

"Well I'll be fucked," Amarant uttered, his jaw coming dangerously close to hanging open.

"What is it?" Rufus asked, awe clearly in his voice.

"It's the godamn Invincible," Amarant said, for once thrown completely off balance by the turn of events. "It's an airship. Biggest, meanest, fastest airship I've ever seen. It disappeared when we flew it into Memoria when we went to go fight Kuja. How'd it get here?"

"It doesn't matter," Kain said. "This is obviously what Golbez sent us to find. The important question is if we can get it flying."

Vincent had his gun out of his holster before Amarant even registered the moving figure that slipped off the top of the airship and landed in front of them in a crouch. Before Amarant or any of the others could even react, the ex-Turk had already put his weapon back underneath his cloak, realizing the figure of Shadow to be of no threat, to the group at the very least.

"You made it out," Shadow said.

"As did you," Kain said. "The others?"

"We managed to get Fujin and Cyan out. They're resting now. Healed, but still weak."

"'We'?" Vincent asked, echoed only a half-second later by Amarant.

The assassin nodded. "Come with me. I'll introduce you to our new ally."

* * *

Ever since fleeing the encounter the night before, Kain could feel something in his very heart eating at him. It was like a ravenous beast, threatening to tear away his resolve with jagged teeth. He knew nothing of this cause, knew all too much about Golbez, did not know his companions that well, and missed his former life. He wanted to go home. 

But at the same time, he realized that everyone with him wanted to as well. Except possibly Amarant, who seemed to hold no interest or care for anything around him at all, and Fujin, who, according to Shadow, was more interested in the company she kept more in the setting that she kept it in. It was his responsibility to return them to their respective worlds. It was his duty, one that he couldn't abandon so long as he drew breath.

And now, he was chasing a devilish nightmare with white hair and an impossible sword-arm. And to make matters worse, they in turn were also being chased. Enemies to the front, and enemies to the rear. The odds just seemed too impossible. If only Cecil were there...

Kain nearly growled at himself aloud for thinking the hated words. The man was like a brother to him, but he did not _need_ Cecil for anything, and he needed to fully come to grips with that.

He struggled with the thought of it as Shadow led them through a hatch opening he'd found inside the ship. He half-listened to the conversation, taking in what he could, but he couldn't force his mind to focus entirely on the subject. The assassin was explaining how they couldn't get anything on the ship to work, that there seemed to be no power source. Amarant, in turn, said he knew something of how the ship worked, but wouldn't even know how to begin how to fix it.

They walked into what appeared to be the engine room, a wide open space with a red sphere in the centre of the floor. Pallets had been laid out, and Cyan and Fujin seemed to sleep peacefully. Kain's eyes widened momentarily as he saw a woman putting a cloth over Cyan's forehead, a dim recognition coming over him. He removed his helm, and strode forward, trying to get a better angle on her.

"Rosa?" he said, astounded, and then shook himself immediately. The woman – the _girl_ – by Cyan turned towards him, a question in her eyes. It wasn't her. There was something of her in her features, but it most certainly was not Rosa. The girl's hair, which was brown instead of blond, was cut short, save for one very long braid that hung down her back. The shape of her nose and line of her jaw were similar, but slightly different, but her eyes were nothing at all like Rosa's at all. Rosa had brown eyes, but this girl had two distinctly different eyes – one green, one blue. And more, while Rosa wore attire some would consider nearly scandalous where he had come from, this girl was even less clothed! It was all Kain could do not to stare.

Others in his party were not so inclined. Amarant openly whistled his approval, while Rufus stepped forward, offered the girl a gracious bow, took up one of her hands, and placed a firm kiss on the back of it. "Allow me to introduce myself. Rufus Shinra, President of Shinra Incorporated," he said. "And you are...?"

"Not interested," the girl said, firmly withdrawing her hand.

Amarant let out a loud guffaw, and Rufus, obviously affronted, began to glower slightly. He looked about to retort when Shadow stepped in, neatly between the two of them, and said, "This is Yuna. High Summoner of a world called Spira. She saved my life."

The last bit was said with such menace, as if daring Rufus to challenge the woman in light of that information. Wisely, the blond man decided not to, and nodded his head in greeting. Introductions were made around, and when finished, Kain said, "How long do you think it will take to get this ship running?"

"Shouldn't the question you should be asking is 'do you think we're ready to turn around and attack our pursuers'?"

"We'd lose again," Kain said. "We don't work well as a team right now, and our enemies know all our weaknesses."

"Your call," Shadow said. "I prefer to make sure the only enemies I leave behind me are dead ones, though. How do you plan on fixing this airship?"

"I know something of airship mechanics. This looks a little different than I'm used to. More high tech. But, with Amarant helping me and--"

"I know a little about airships, too."

Kain turned to regard the owner of the voice, and saw Yuna standing directly behind them. She appeared a little hesitant, yet at the same time, assertive. She continued, "I worked some repairs on the Celsius when I was a member of the Gullwings, and Rikku showed me a few things... I'm no Cid, but I know my way around an airship."

"Cid?" Kain and Shadow sputtered at the same time. Both stopped, looked at each other, and frowned.

"I know a Cid who's good with airships," Kain said hesitantly. "Big man, beard, likes to drink a lot."

Shadow shook his head. "I know a Cid, too, but he was a funny little man who liked to wear raincoats indoors. He's dead now. Didn't know a thing about airships, though. A coincidence?"

"Maybe," Kain said. "It might bear some looking into, though. Me and Yuna will get started on the airship. Shadow, I want you to ask around, see if anyone else knows a Cid."

"Why? It's not an uncommon name where I come from. Does it matter?"

"Maybe. Maybe not," Kain admitted. "But it's a link. It's something I've been thinking about. Notice how we're all from different worlds, but we all speak the same language?"

That seemed to startle both Yuna and Shadow a little bit, and finally the assassin nodded. "I'll see what other links I can come up with."

"Good. It's obvious Golbez isn't telling us everything. The theory that the worlds are supposed to stay separate obviously isn't a universal rule, though. Let's see what else is the same."

* * *

A few hours later, Cyan and Fujin were both up and about. Cyan, eager to test his newly healed muscles, began practising with his katana. Fujin, a little more tired, was content to sit back and watch the old samurai work out the knots in his back and shoulders. 

Amarant, Kain and Yuna were all working on the airship, Vincent was patrolling the area to make sure they hadn't been followed, and Shadow was sitting in the shade watching Cyan practice. The cargo hold was spacious, and contained a large amount of provisions – food, water, and even a cache of weapons. Amarant had coldly stated as soon as those boxes had been found that they belonged to his former companions, but after a while, relented and didn't seem to care who went through their contents. Shadow had ended up entirely emptying out a box labelled 'Zidane' which had been filled to the brim with throwing knives.

Shadow's investigation had started shortly afterwards. He'd discovered a few things to be similar about all the worlds. Same language. Same names for certain things. Everyone except Fujin called their currency 'gil.' Monsters varied on some worlds, but they all seemed to have chocobos. Their respective worlds even had the same basic history, even. Peaceful world, and some menace from outside threatened to destroy everything. All of their worlds had just gone through a crisis, and all in roughly the same time frame. And, of course, there was the oddity of 'Cid'. Everyone knew a Cid, and he was always in some manner proficient with technology, or involved with airships somehow. The only Cid that hadn't been was Fujin's, but even he had discovered that their 'school' was really, in fact, an airship of some kind.

Shadow thought it over, trying to discern what it could all mean. Some things obviously meant that perhaps there had been outside influence on their cultures at some point. Golbez, and his Lunarians? It made sense, to a point. This Golbez seemed to want to control everything, in a way. Worlds weren't allowed to influence – or even know – about each other, all because the Lunarians said so.

He needed to focus his mind elsewhere. He hated puzzles. Didn't have the patience for them. He needed to be fighting. He was a fool for trying to escape that and start a 'normal' life. Everything made sense when he was inflicting violence.

He sat down and leaned against a wall, and was tempted to take a nap, but even as he tried, he found himself watching Cyan go through the motions of swordplay. And then, saw Fujin, ever so hesitantly, approach, and watch intently herself. Cyan didn't seem to notice, but even as he went through the motions at an ever-increasing pace, he abruptly stopped, the point of the blade a bare inch from the girl's uncovered eye. To her credit, she didn't even blink. She just stared at the weapon menacingly, almost challengingly, daring it to go that extra inch. Just as abruptly, the blade turned in Cyan's hand, and suddenly, where the tip had been was now the hilt.

"It would be mine pleasure to show thee how to use it, shouldst thou wish," Cyan offered.

She sneered slightly, and moved as if to turn away, and then abruptly stopped, and said, as if to herself, but loudly enough for everyone to hear, "NOT SEIFER."

As she did, she faced the aging samurai once more and snatched the weapon from his hands. Fujin instantly assumed a combat stance, holding the katana before her face with only one hand, the blade perpendicular to her body, her other arm crooked at the elbow and parallel to the sword. The whole thing seemed awkward, but it belied an almost cocky nature, if not necessarily one that belonged to her. Shadow surmised she was copying it from somewhere she'd seen, and not out of any lessons she'd learned.

Cyan immediately corrected her stance, moving her hands with his, and nudging her feet in different position with his own, until she finally was holding herself in a position nearly as old as swordplay itself. Both hands were gripped on the hilt, with the blade pointing up and forward, her body facing slightly sideways to present a smaller target for the enemy. Seeing that Cyan wasn't screwing up her training too badly, Shadow finally slipped into sleep, allowing himself to rest.

He expected nightmares. Nearly welcomed them, as was his nightly ritual. Always came the images of Clyde or the life he'd left behind with the woman who could have been his wife. But this time there was only blackness, a dreamless haze of nothingness as he slept.

He awoke some time later, his body feeling fully rested. Despite that, he immediately felt wrong. The dreams before had always been a gauge for his internal clock. This time, he had slept, and had no idea how much time had passed.

"Sleeping?"

Only years of desensitizing his own nerves prevented Shadow from jumping at Amarant's voice. He was getting old. That was it. In his prime, nobody ever would have sneaked up on him while he was asleep. It just didn't happen. Either that, or it was just that everyone in this group with the exception of Kain, Cyan and Rufus seemed to have a high degree of stealth training, and even Kain, with all his plate armour, was slightly proficient in that area as well.

"Meditating," Shadow asserted. "I wasn't sleeping."

"Well, you snore pretty damn loud when you're meditating then," Amarant grunted.

"I was clearing my throat."

"For an hour straight?"

"Don't you have airship repairs to do?" the assassin growled.

"Nah. I might know the Invincible a bit, but I don't know two shits about repairing it. Near as I can flamin' tell, we're missin' a power source. But that's just my godamn opinion. Kain'd rather make lovesick faces at that broad we just picked up, and she seems to be busy bein' all emo over some dead guy."

"And that upsets you?"

"Hey, that Yuna chick looks like a fine piece of tail. Probably ain't worth shit in a fight, but I ain't met many chicks who are that aren't named 'Beatrix.'"

"I suppose you're forgetting that girl last night that trounced you. What was her name? 'Lani'?"

"Hey, weren't you the one who got his ass kicked by a fag that sounded like a prissy little girl?"

"Don't remind me. I'm never going to live that down."

They were both silent after that, both reflecting on the fights they had recently lost, both men used to being the victors, now both forced into the role of loser. Rather than dwell on it, the two both found themselves watching Cyan train Fujin, who seemed to be making quick progress. After a while, covered in sweat, the girl handed the sword back to Cyan and said, "DONE."

She began to walk away, but Amarant intercepted her, blocking her exit from the room by standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame insolently.

"MOVE," she commanded, pointing imperiously to one side.

Amarant just chuckled. "You think you're one tough bitch, don't you? You ain't got half the skill of most of the people on this ship, except Rufus, and you think a couple hours of trainin's gonna fix that?"

She growled at him and kicked him in the shin. He grunted, but didn't move.

"We all saw you back in Shinra Tower," he continued. "You were downright embarrassing. I was gonna tell Highwind to leave you with that other crew of dimwits we met back there, but everything happened too damn fast. Your pinwheel's a neat trick, but hell, I can throw those things around, too, and I'd bet my bottom gil Shadow can."

"SO?"

"So, little girl, you're either gonna have to learn how to fight, or I'm gonna lock you up in the airship when it's time for the big kids to play again."

"LATER," she said. "TIRED NOW."

"Then sleep when you're dead. We need to get you up to our level as of yesterday."

She made a little growl noise, but refused to meet his eyes. Cyan stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Sir Amarant's words, while seeming cruel, do have a ring of truth to them. Surely the miscreant Rufus hath some other use to us, but my Lady, I do thinkest of thou as a fighter, albeit an inexperienced one. Perhaps additional training wouldst be for thy benefit."

Fujin looked to Shadow for support, as if to defend her. She wasn't just tired from the training. None of them had any real rest the past few days, and even healed, she had received a beating from Raijin and Seymour just the night previous. Still, he refused to allow for a lax regimen. If she was to become stronger, she had to do it in the time they had, not in the time she wanted.

When he said nothing, she turned back to Amarant and stared defiantly at him. "TRAIN NOW."

His response was simple. One of his large hands moved forward and pushed her shoulder, while one of his feet hooked under hers and tripped her backwards. She let out an indignant squawk as she fell, and landed bodily to the ground. She abruptly stood up, pointing her finger at Amarant, about to make the inevitable accusation of 'unfairness.' Shadow winced. This was going to be a hard lesson for her.

Even as she did, Amarant knocked her down again, using the exact same move. She stood up once more the exact same way, but this time, her fists were up, ready in a fighting stance. He feinted with his right hand as if to push her again. She defended, and the real attack, with the left hand, came at her, knocking her back, and his foot once more tripping her down. Once more she stood up, and again, Amarant knocked her back down. Shadow just shook his head in disgust.

When Fujin stood up this time, she assumed a full-on defensive position, holding up both arms to block her torso and face. Amarant pushed against the defense, and then attempted to trip her. She managed to jump over the foot, and seemed rather smug about that. Until Amarant's uppercut punch ripped right through her defense and took her feet off the ground.

Fujin landed bodily halfway across the room. Cyan turned his back, unable to watch any more. Amarant kept moving. He was instantly on top of her prone form, and picked her up by one leg, his massive hand encircling her calf completely.

"Enough!" Shadow said, standing up.

Amarant stopped, but continued holding Fujin in the air, upside down, and the girl kicked at his arm and lashed out at him with her fists, trying in vain to land a punch. The distance was too far, and her attacks met only air a foot away from the monk's torso.

"I said enough!"

Fujin stopped her attacks, but crossed her arms, and assumed a stern expression, attempting to save some of her dignity by pretending that she was not, in fact, hanging upside down and two feet from the ground.

"How did he beat you?" Shadow asked.

"DIDN'T," she said defiantly.

Amarant snorted, but Shadow ignored it and said, "How did he beat you?"

"TIRED."

"Bullshit," Amarant muttered.

Shadow glared at him into silence, and then said pointedly to Fujin, "You didn't back off. Didn't give any ground. Every time he pushed you down, you stood back up."

"SO?"

"Stop that," Shadow said, annoyed. "We both know you can talk normally. I need a conversation here, not you barking complaints and excuses at me."

Fujin glanced nervously at Amarant, and then Cyan, both of whom were looking at her more curiously. Finally, she said, albeit strained, "... How is that... wrong? Not backing off?"

Amarant answered for Shadow, "Because every time you didn't, you jumped right back into my reach, and I got a lot more of a reach than you do. You kept _standin'_ back up, instead of _rolling_ back out of my reach, or, even riskier, _rolling into_ it. If you got in quickly enough, you coulda used my longer reach against me. You kept fightin' with your heart, and not your head."

"But... I _did_ keep getting back up."

"Yeah, you're a stubborn bitch. I'll give you that. Don't mean squat if you can't hit back, though."

"Fine," she said. "Now put me down!"

Amarant shrugged, and abruptly dropped her. As soon as she landed, she neatly rolled towards him, and used her momentum as she stood to launch a few quick punches to his gut. He grunted and doubled-over slightly, and as he did, Fujin kicked as hard as she could at the back of his right knee. Instead of falling back, though, his leg refused to budge, and his left hand came out and pushed her shoulder as she was recovering from her kick, causing her to once again fall backwards and land on her rear.

Before she could stand or roll in any direction, though, Amarant said, "Not bad, kiddo. Not half bad."

Abruptly, Vincent entered the room, cloak flaring out behind him, and the man said, "We have company."

Kain and Yuna followed after, hot on his heels, and the Dragoon said, "Okay, people. Get ready for a fight. Those people who beat on us last night are back. So it's either fight or run, and we're in a broken airship."

"What happened to us just 'losing again'?" Shadow asked.

"Well, it's like you said. Best enemies to leave behind you are dead ones. I hope everyone here got better acquainted with each other, because I have a plan, and it depends on us working together."

Author's Notes:

I'm really beginning to like Fujin. I've always liked Shadow and Amarant. I figured that would be obvious by now, but my like for Fujin is increasing by the chapter. I'm kind of sorry I never wrote her before.

Sorry about how long this chapter took to get up. The next one will be up next Thursday, I promise. After that, though... well, it's up in the air.

Special thanks go to **Alpha2Omega, Yuleen75, Brutal2003, **and **Macky.** You reviewers are the reason why we keep writing. Well, part of it. You know the song and dance by now.


	34. Falling From the Sky

**Previously in Final Trinity...**

**Kefka** has completely decimated the Galbadian military presence escorting **Squall, Locke **and** Cloud** to **Deling City,** and only by a fluke were they able to defeat him, crushing him between a powerful electromagnet and a stack of cargo containers. The **Lunar Cry** has been summoned, and is hurtling towards Deling. Meanwhile, **Tseng**, the **Dimensional Guardian of Water**, and **Gilgamesh**, the **Fire Guardian**, are hunting **Reno, Avira **and **Zidane** for disrupting the balance between the universes by travelling between them, despite the fact that Zidane, up until recently, was the **Air Guardian **and their compatriot. If they cannot stop them, they will hunt and kill the rest of their dimension-hopping companions.

* * *

Combine a densely populated capital city with a giant monolithic structure summoning a stream of monsters to annihilate everything below them, then only one thing can be expected. 

Mass.

Panic.

Chapter 34

Falling From The Sky

Zidane walked calmly through the empty corridors of the TV station. The building must be abandoned, or at least used very rarely, because of the complete absence of any civilians. Not even any cleaning staff.

He had 'turned off' his mental link with the others, so that he stood a better chance of sneaking up on Tseng and Gilgamesh. The point was to find them, but he didn't want to make it too obvious that they would know he wanted to them to find him. Second guessing people was a very complicated business.

Besides which, he didn't want a third Guardian crashing the party.

He wondered idly if Golbez had replaced him yet. With everything that was going on, even one disobedient act was enough for Golbez to cut ties and outcast you. Zidane had learned that the hard way. And he was guessing there wasn't enough time for Golbez to sit and wait around for a situation like Zidane had faced; he would get in fresh blood, and quickly. Keeping the dimensions separate in a time like this was secondary to stopping Sephiroth and the others – ironic, that Zidane had been excommunicated with such ease when Golbez would forever remove the dimensional boundaries if it meant destroying Sephiroth. But Zidane knew how it would be justified. He had saved the lives of some unimportant problems, and Golbez would be acting in the best interests of the universes.

Footsteps up ahead. He jumped to the side of the corridor, hiding himself from view. After a few seconds, he peeked around the corner and saw Tseng checking rooms on either side of the hallway. A few minutes later, and he had rounded a corner and headed the other way.

Zidane let out a silent sigh of relief. He went to walk away but powerful hands gripped him.

Four of them.

"Hello Zidane," growled Gilgamesh in his ear.

"Hi," Zidane returned, squirming in the larger man's grasp.

"Ah, Zidane, I didn't realise you would fall for such an elementary ploy," said Tseng, rounding back around the corner. "Even after I warned you not to use our mental link. Did that not suggest to you we would be using it to navigate tactically?"

"I'll remember it for next time."

"Sadly, my monkey-tailed friend, there won't be a next time for you. This is the end. And this time, there isn't a Golbez waiting to rescue you. Your borrowed time has come to an end, as it must do for us all."

"Actually Tseng, I think I have a bit more time left." He smiled at Tseng – his best, boyish, good-natured smirk, and vanished.

Gilgamesh's arms folded as the boy between them disappeared, and Tseng blinked several times in surprise. Then he smiled faintly.

"Well done, Zidane. In my haste to claim victory I forgot that your physical elemental ability, unlike your status as Guardian, has not been revoked. I didn't realise the extent to which your abilities stretched, I thought you could merely change parts of your body into air. Tell me, is this the first time you've succeeded in turning your entire body? Or will I find you by spotting a disembodied foot you don't quite have the concentration to change with the rest?"

"Enough talk," said Gilgamesh. "Let's do that chopping-him-into-little-pieces thing we talked about before."

"And how do you suggest we chop insubstantial air? We must concede this round to young master Zidane. He cannot remain in such a state forever, however. He must become whole again to rest before long. We will wait."

* * *

As they stood in the depot, looking up at the sky as it faded from a healthy blue to a sickly red, there was one blood-curdling shriek that echoed across from the civilian station across the field to their right. 

The shriek died down to nothing, and there were a few merciful seconds of total silence before every citizen in the city started wailing at the top of their lungs and stampeding towards what they perceived to be the nearest escape.

Gooseflesh rippled up Squall's back as the sound kicked up, and it brought his attention back into the here and now.

He guessed, based upon the last Lunar Cry, that they had fifteen minutes before the monsters hit the city. They had that long to make their escape. From a force that leaves craters visible from space when they occur.

"We need to move," he said with as much authority as he could muster. He could feel the fear starting to gnaw away at his mind, but he tried to ignore as best he could.

Locke and Cloud, perhaps not understanding exactly what was happening despite his best explanation on the train, looked quite composed, considering the city was now bathed in red light.

"What's happening?" asked Cloud.

"I'll be honest. Bluntly. That's the Lunar Cry. It's going to level the city and the surrounding area in around ten to fifteen minutes, and all that will be left are monsters. We could find a way to leave, but there are around two million people in the city also trying to get away."

"We should leave then," suggested Locke.

"Good idea. Our options are limited, however."

Kefka had done a number on the train depot. Nothing would be remotely functional after the large equipment and cargo containers had been thrown around with the power of his mind. The civilian depot would have too many people inside to get any kind of vehicle now. Any military vehicle would be likely to be heavily guarded and on the way to the governmental buildings, which lay in the opposite direction.

As he stood thinking, the radio that was strapped to what was left of a Galbadian solider started to crackle. At first Squall ignored it, but words started to become clearer as the transmission went on.

"--all?--"

Locke bent and picked the quite large radio up, and pressed the button on the side of it. "Hello?"

"Sq--"

"I think that's Irvine," said Squall, half in shock and half hopeful. He held out his hand and Locke deposited the radio into it. "Irvine, can you hear me?"

"--ll! Whe--ou?

"We're in Deling City."

"--_ere?_"

"Del-ing Ci-ty."

"Got it. Liste--imber, we cam--dane, Reno--retty bad shape."

"Who's in pretty bad shape? Where are you?"

"Timbe--xplain late--pick you up?"

"Yes. Yes! Get over here _now._ The Lunar Cry is coming, we've got less than fifteen minutes before it hits."

"The _what??_ Quisty, start th--ight there Squall. Where in Deling?"

"We'll be on the roof of the Faulkner Building. Repeat, the roof of the Faulkner Building."

"OK. Don't worr--r way. Irvine out."

Squall clipped the radio to his belt and picked up his gunblade, which luckily had not been sucked in by the electromagnet, having been abandoned during Squall's attempts to open Locke's cage.

Locke clapped him on the shoulder. "That's great! We've got a way out!"

Squall didn't share his enthusiasm. "So has every other person within listening distance of someone with a long range radio. We should get there before they do."

* * *

"Are you sure the building is sealed?" 

Gilgamesh nodded. "Yeah. Not even a puff of air could escape this place. Handy that, isn't it?"

Tseng was sure the entire building wasn't sealed up that tightly, but he was equally sure Zidane was still somewhere inside. He knew that he and Gilgamesh wouldn't stop until Zidane was dead, and so, logically, he had to kill the two Guardians before he could be free.

"Gilgamesh," he said suddenly. "I have an idea."

"Yeah?"

"Start to heat the room."

As the Guardian of Fire, Gilgamesh had little trouble in acquiescing to this order. His ability was simply that of being able to create fire between his hands, and so he discharged the flames onto nearby furniture and up the walls. The room immediately set ablaze.

"Thank you. And for the record, I didn't mean set the entire building on fire – simply raising the temperature would have been suffice."

Gilgamesh grinned. "Wait for it," he said.

The fire suppression built into the ceiling detected the rapidly intensifying flames below them and activated. They sprayed water down from metal spouts, dousing the room.

"Hell, sprinkle a bit of dirt on the floor and we have all four elements right her," he said. Tseng just watched the room.

Over in the corner, the water was spraying off in irregular directions, as if they were impacting something. Tseng knew that Zidane was no longer solid, but with the nature of his power, he constantly produced air as cells of his body reverted to their natural state. Effectively, Zidane was creating a small breeze, enough to affect the flow of the water.

"Gilgamesh," he warned. The four-armed man spotted the disturbance, and they walked casually over to it.

"Give it up, Zidane. We'll make it quick if you simply surrender to us."

The wind blasted at their faces, spraying water into their eyes. The two men blinked on reflex, and Zidane materialised in a burst of air. He punched Tseng solidly in the nose, and then kicked viciously at Gilgamesh's knee. Both men fell back, completely off balance.

Zidane went to follow his punch towards Tseng with another, but the Turk grabbed his arm, wrenching the boy around and ran him at the wall. As he was about to impact, Zidane once again disappeared in a puff of air, and Tseng ran face first into the wall. The monkey-tailed youth appeared directly behind the Turk, and grabbed the back of his jacket, pulling him away and then driving him back into the side of the room.

Tseng lashed out with his foot, and kicked Zidane in the shin. He hopped back, clutching his leg, and hit something solid behind him. He slowly turned around to see Gilgamesh towering over him, grinning evilly. He struck Zidane across his face, and the boy staggered sideways, upsetting a table.

Tseng wiped the blood from his nose and walked to Zidane. Despite the water falling all around him, his suit appeared to be bone dry.

"Impressive, Zidane. We do not disrespect your status as a great warrior, however you cannot hope to succeed against both of us. Perhaps one on one, you would stand a better chance of victory."

"Speak for yourself," stated Gilgamesh bluntly.

"Give in to the inevitable," coaxed Tseng. Zidane looked thoughtfully at the floor, and then met the Turk's eyes. He nodded sorrowfully.

Tseng smiled reassuringly. "There is no dishonour in this. This is a good death."

He picked up the young man, so he was kneeling.

"Had anyone in your home dimension been aware you were still alive, I assure you I would have sought them out and explained that you died defending something greater than yourself."

He had walked around to the back of Zidane, producing his pistol. Gilgamesh handed him some ammunition, and he refilled the empty weapon.

"Do you have any last words?"

"Yeah. I know that you can't tell anyone I'm alive, but you could do one thing for me?"

Zidane opened his mind to Tseng. He saw a girl with shoulder length black hair, wearing a dress a pale shade of orange. Then he saw a small gemstone, and himself delivering it to the girl's palace. The girl came out after he had left, and picked it up, somehow knowing it was from Zidane. He was showing Tseng how to say goodbye on Zidane's behalf to the woman he loved.

"Yes, Zidane. I'll do that for you," he said genuinely. Gilgamesh snorted.

"Get on with it already, would you?"

Tseng nodded. He aimed his gun at the back of Zidane's head.

"Goodbye, my adversary."

He fired. But the bullet passed through thin air.

Zidane leaped up.

_Son of a bitch,_ were the only words that had time to enter Tseng's mind before Zidane had smashed a piece of piping from the floor into his jaw.

"Last words!?" he cried, enraged. "How about these?"

He smacked Gilgamesh in the stomach with the pipe. The taller man doubled over.

"Go!"

He turned back to Tseng, emphasising each of his words with a heavy blow.

"To!"

A boot connected with the side of Gilgamesh's head.

"Hell!"

Both of the Guardians collapsed to the floor with Zidane's final blows.

"How about _that_ for tactical use of the mental link?" he flared, as Tseng staggered to his feet.

"You timed your disappearance with my thought telling you when I was going to pull the trigger," Tseng congratulated. "But you have made the mistake of leaving me alive instead of collapsing my skull immediately with that pipe."

He didn't raise the gun. He raised his empty palm and aimed it towards Zidane. The boy had enough to widen his eyes, and then the water streaming from the ceiling coalesced and drove into the former Guardian's chest. Zidane was pushed backwards, pinned to the wall by the torrent of liquid.

He and Gilgamesh walked to where Zidane was trapped, and then Tseng released his grip on the water. Gilgamesh grabbed the monkey-tailed youth, one hand for each of the boy's limbs.

Tseng started to pummel him, viciously striking where he knew it would hurt the most. After a few minutes of this brutal punishment, Gilgamesh held Zidane away from Tseng.

"My turn," he said.

He threw Zidane across the room, and he landed amid some furniture, shattering a wooden table into pieces. He tried to get up but Gilgamesh was already there. Blood streamed from Zidane's nose openly, and one of his eyes had swollen shut.

With no mercy, Gilgamesh swung to strike the boy. Zidane managed to block the attack and jumped away weakly, Gilgamesh strode after him, swinging his fists all the while. Zidane dodged each of Gilgamesh's four strikes, and then jumped backwards, looping his tail around a low support strut. From there he had a fairly good vantage point, punching and kicking at Gilgamesh at a height, but Tseng simply walked to where the strut joined with the wall and smashed at it with a piece of piping. The strut fell away, and Zidane landed on the floor in a heap.

"_Now_ it's time to give up. Whether you want to or not," stated Tseng with a dreadful finality.

A whirring was all the warning he got.

Reno burst in the room, brandishing a massive gun. The whirring came from the barrel, spinning around for two seconds and then letting loose a torrent of rounds.

He filled Tseng with small, bloody holes, the ones that didn't hit his former mentor spraying through the falling water. Gilgamesh instantly turned and abandoned his comrade-in-arms, and dived into the nearest doorway. Reno tried to follow him with the trail of weapons fire, but he had already gone.

The fire ceased, and the barrel slowly rolled to a stop.

Avira ran into the room behind Reno, and went and helped Zidane stagger to his feet.

"Where…where did you…?" he asked.

Reno propped the gun onto his shoulder in an obvious display of trying to look cooler. "Don't thank me, thank the lady."

Quistis stepped inside delicately as the monkey-tailed boy limped along with the support of Avira.

"Where did you come from?" he asked.

"We picked up your signal," she replied. "Reno wanted to leave without you, but I thought you might be able to shed some more light on the situation. So I told to him to come down here and rescue you."

"Thanks…"

"Don't thank me; this is an exchange. Your rescue in exchange for information. You just became our resource on what's going on around here."

Behind them, Reno was looking down at his Tseng's bullet riddled body.

"Well Boss, I guess it had to go down like this after all. I'm just glad I did it instead of someone who didn't deserve destroying your reputation."

Tseng didn't offer any reply, so Reno went to turn away.

He stopped when the Turk drew in a ragged breath.

Amazed, the red headed mercenary stooped to check Tseng's pulse. Sure enough, there was a faint heartbeat. He observed his former mentor's wounds and saw the reason.

Water was seeping into Tseng's body, knitting flesh and ligament and bone back together. The water filled one of the wounds, pushing the metal of a chaingun round out of the body. It clinked metallically onto the floor below. Tseng drew in another, less laboured breath.

"Uh, Quistis?" he called.

"Bring him along," said the blonde haired SeeD. She had been watching all along.

Reno grabbed Tseng's legs and started to drag him towards the exit.

* * *

"You're _where?"_

"Del-ing Ci--"

The transmission quality was awful. Irvine had raised Squall on a Galbadian military frequency, of all things.

"Got it. Listen, we're in Timber, we came to pick you up, but you aren't here. Obviously. Avira, Zidane and Reno are though. Zidane's in pretty bad shape."

"Who's in--shape? Where are y--"

"Timber. I'll explain later. You need us to come pick you up?"

"--es! Get over her--Lunar Cry is--ess than fifteen minutes--"

"The _what??"_ With impeccable timing, Quistis had stepped back into the cockpit of the aircraft after loading the others on board. "Quisty, start the engines! We'll be right there Squall. Where in Deling?"

"We'll be on the roof of--" Irvine tensed, praying Squall would repeat his location and that he wasn't lost to static. But the transmission continued. "Repeat--Faulkner Building."

"OK. Don't worry Squall; we're on our way. Irvine out."

He flicked off the radio, and turned to Quistis. "We need to get to Deling City in less than ten minutes."

"Done," she said, and slammed the engines into full.

* * *

The city was even worse than they could have imagined. All around them civilians wailed in despair, raided commercial buildings and fights were breaking out every couple of meters. Someone pulled into the street the three fugitives walked down in a car, and instantly it was set upon, people desperately trying to wrest control of the vehicle. In the end it's suspension collapsed and it was abandoned when it was realised it wouldn't drive anyone anywhere. 

"This is madness," said Locke.

"They know what's coming," said Squall.

Worse, people who had listened in on Irvine's transmission were headed towards the roof of the Faulkner building, anticipating some kind of mass evacuation. There were going to be disappointed.

"What happens when they try and get on the Ragnarok and we can't?" asked Cloud, echoing Squall's unspoken thought. There were bound to be lots of civilians on the roof before them, and they needed to get on the aircraft first.

"We'll deal with that if it comes to it. But we are getting on that airship."

They reached the foot of the building, and already there were crowds of people swarming up the fire escape. Squall joined the flow of people, Locke and Cloud falling into line behind him. They were about halfway up when an ugly fight broke out above them. It culminated in one of the participants falling from the metal stairs. Cloud reached out and grabbed the man's leg, and he and Locke managed to drag him back onto the fire escape.

"Thanks," he gushed. "I don't know what that guy's problem was. I'd be a goner if it wasn't for you fellas."

"Don't mention it," said Squall, even though he'd had no part in the man's rescue. He continued up the stairs.

As they reached the roof, already half of the concrete was filled with people. There was no way that Irvine could land the Ragnarok in such a confined space. A quick check above confirmed the Lunar Cry was nearer than ever; there had to be less than five minutes left.

Blobs of red liquid were already falling on the city, releasing the monsters they had carried from the moon. An advance force, for the carnage to come. Squall could pick out a Behemoth in the streets below him, and a crowd of people running terrified from it. A group of smaller monsters were tossing something between them, and Squall's stomach lurched at the thought of what it was. He turned away before his imagination could fill in the blanks.

"Look!" someone cried out. "On the horizon!"

Squall thought he could have cried in that moment. Blazing towards them, in the extreme distance, very difficult to make out against the red of the sky, was the Ragnarok. Irvine and Quistis had come for him. He had people to rely on, and for the first time in a while he was truly indebted to someone. He promised he would never make fun of Irvine again. Too much, anyway.

The ethereal moment was broken when an angry muttering started to accompany the cries of joy from the crowd.

"Here we go," said Locke.

As the Ragnarok grew closer, the crowd around them started to jostle each other, vying for the best position to get onto the aircraft. It circled one overhead, Irvine obviously trying to figure out a place where he could land, and then he increased the power going to the engines, looking like he was going to soar away.

The angry undercurrent erupted into a roar, and people started to scream at the aircraft, pushing each other with frenzy. People near to the edge of the building were pushed off, their screams mingling with the cried around them.

Squall produced his gunblade, pointed it into the sky, and fired.

The crowd around him hushed immediately, looking at him in fear. He fired again just to make sure he had their attention. The nearest to him flinched.

"Everyone remain calm. There is enough room on that airship for you all; the pilot is just looking for a place to land. There are too many people on this roof to make a successful landing."

"What, you're saying some of us have to get off? Screw that!" said the man Cloud had saved from falling to his death. "I nearly fell from this building before, I don't wanna repeat the experience!"

"I'm not saying you have to jump, just clear --" Squall was interrupted by the angry comments of the crowd around him.

"Hey, is that a gunblade?"

"Looks like a gunblade."

"I'm not jumping off this building so that guy can be saved."

"Don't SeeDs use gunblades? I heard some guy who said he worked for the government say SeeD did this to the city."

"SeeD did this?"

Squall tried again. "Please, remain calm!"

"That guy's a SeeD? No wonder he's up here trying to make us clear the way, he was probably the one who did this to us!"

Sensing the crowd was about to turn very ugly, he tried firing the gunblade again into the air, but it was no use. The crowd pushed forward at him, consuming him in their mob mentality anger.

He hit the first few civilians to the ground, but someone connected with the back of his head, and he sunk to knees. Unseen to him, Locke and Cloud had sprung to his defense, throwing away men, women and even children, but there were simply too many people. The gunblade clattered to the ground, and Squall rolled into the foetal position to protect his body from the frenzied kicks of the people around him.

Suddenly light flooded the roof, and machine gun fire rattled the mob into silence.

"Step away from that man," erupted Quistis' voice from a loudspeaker. The Ragnarok looked demonic in the red light of the stream of monsters above it, light emerging from it's floodlight generators and machine guns aimed menacingly at the crowd below them. It hovered just metres from the side of the building, looking as if it had come down from the Lunar Cry early.

"Good," said Quistis as the crowd started to step away from Squall. A quick check revealed Locke and Cloud in similar positions. "If anyone harms those men, no one is getting on this aircraft."

The crowd subdued, Squall stood and retrieved his gunblade. As the Ragnarok swung around to bring its cargo hatch level with the roof, a glance upwards revealed they didn't have much time left at all. Squall jumped across the gap from the building into the Ragnarok, followed closely by Locke and Cloud. Almost immediately behind them, the crowd started to jump on board. Reno, who had been standing by the cargo door controls, and Squall, guided people on board and down the corridor into the cargo hold of the vessel.

"How many people will this thing take?" called Reno.

"The spec says two hundred, but we might get a few more," said Squall.

Two hundred people out of a city of two million. They had barely fifty on board, despite the fast pace the frightened civilians were moving at.

Reno was peering up outside of the hatch. "Squall, you might want to do something about that."

There had to be less than a few miles before the monsters hit the city. Squall could practically hold out his hand and invite one of the monsters on board from such a distance. He made his way to the comm panel.

"Irvine?" he asked through it. "We need to get going."

He had barely spoken the words when they shot back along the stream of civilians like electricity through water. A terrified roar kicked up and the crowd rushed forward, a heavy flow of people hurrying inside the ship.

"Just a few more seconds, Squall!" called the sniper from the panel, and Squall was about to agree when he caught Cloud staring at him intently from across the corridor. The words caught in his throat. He recalled what Cloud had said earlier.

"_Don't try and save them all. You'll have to leave them behind."_

He regained his composure. "Negative. We need to get out of here, _now_."

"Squall, we can't leave these people behind!"

"We have to – we can't save every person in Deling. Get us out of here."

There was a second of silence. "…No, Squall. We can stay for thirty more seconds."

Shocked, Squall felt anger and panic build up inside him. "Irvine – I'm giving you a direct order; pilot this ship out of Deling. Do it _now._"

"I'm sorry Squall, but I can't just…hey, what are you doing??"

The ship began to move away from the building, and Squall moved away from the panel, helping the last few people leap across the rapidly increasing gap to the departing ship. The last few to make it grabbed the bottom of the hatch as they nearly fell, and one more woman managed to latch onto a pair of legs, but the rest of the people behind her missed the target and plummeted to their deaths.

A red sphere landed in the middle of the roof, and a giant two-headed lizard climbed from inside it. The screams from the people it devoured were cut blissfully short as Squall and Reno pulled the last few survivors aboard and shut the cargo hatch.

At the rear viewpoint, Zidane and Avira were not afforded such a pleasantry. They winced as they watched the lizard hungrily attack the crowd of smaller people. The roof had swung into view as the Ragnarok turned to depart. You could almost touch the red wave above them.

But the ship didn't engage its engines.

"Why aren't we leaving?" asked Zidane.

Avira's sad, liquid eyes reflected the carnage taking place outside. "He can't bring himself to fire the engines. The blast would incinerate the people on the roof."

In the cockpit, Irvine sat distraught, looking at the feed from the rear cameras. Quistis was talking at him urgently. She had wrested control of the ship to move it away from the building, but only he had access to the engines on his control panel.

"Irvine – we have to do it. It will be an act of mercy, considering what they're about to experience. They won't just be crushed by this wave of monsters, they will feed from the people in this city – Irvine, look out!!"

The proximity sensor had just sounded – a sphere of monsters was headed right towards them. On instinct, Irvine hit the engines.

The superheated air that rushed from the back of the ship seared the roof and vaporised the crowds of people rushing towards the ship. People on the fire escape were roasted alive when the heat from the engines made the metal nearest to the roof white-hot. The giant lizard roared once, and then was swept away by the force.

The Ragnarok blasted away from the building as the globule smothered the side of the building. The monsters that erupted from the liquid howled in triumph as they were freed from their lunar cell.

The civilians inside the cargo hold all staggered and fell the ground when Irvine punched the engines. Squall pulled himself to the viewpoint built into the cargo hatch and gazed out.

"Come on, come on…" he whispered.

The airship shot out from underneath the cloud of the Lunar Cry. The sky turned from a sickly purple to the blue it always was, and Irvine relaxed on the engines slightly.

"It's okay. We're okay," he said over the intercom, sounding subdued.

He wheeled the Ragnarok around, to afford the passengers a better view of the city.

They were at a far enough distance now to see the entire skyline of the city. The stream of monsters reached the buildings and the streets of Deling City. It looked almost delicate; like a drop of paint falling onto a canvas. But Squall knew that Deling City was no more. Every person left within the city limits was either dead or facing agonising torture at the inhuman minds of the monsters now surrounding them. The Lunatic Pandora was no longer visible, but he knew it was still there, waiting to summon this atrocity again.

A small groan escaped from the cargo hold as the Lunar Cry hit the city, but the refugees were otherwise subdued.

Squall sat against the hull of the vessel, and closed his eyes, allowing a slow breath to escape him. He tried to visualise his tiredness and negative emotion leaving his body with his breath, but it didn't work. There was still a knot in his chest, and he would have to fight to open his eyes again.

"Squall?" a female voice asked. He ignored them. The voice repeated the enquiry.

"Give me a minute," he murmured. He hadn't slept much in several days, had minimal food intake, and had had to make some very tough choices. He thought he deserved a minute.

Finally he opened his eyes. Quistis was standing in front of him. "You know, Irvine has just done exactly the same thing," she said with a very small smile.

"Maybe we're not so different after all," supposed Squall. Then he reconsidered. "Don't tell him I said that, though."

She smiled more openly, a strange expression, considering the circumstances. She helped him to his feet.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"There are several things we need to get on top of immediately," she said. "We have a prisoner on board, who's linked in with the situation surrounding the portals. Zidane is also linked with the same thing, it appears. We need to find these refugees a new home, and then we need to find the Garden."

He nodded. The last two he had already thought ahead to, and the first couple could wait, at least until they got rid of the refugees. "We've got to find out who triggered that Lunar Cry. I think Cloud has something to do with it. …He's on board, you know."

"Yes, I'd seen," she said with a dead voice. Squall made a mental note to keep the two apart as much as he could manage.

They walked into the cockpit.

"I have a few candidates for who could be responsible for the Lunar Cry," said Quistis, and Irvine interrupted her.

"The Galbadians have one in mind already," he proclaimed.

"Who?"

He turned in his seat. "You," he said to Squall.

"Me? That's ridiculous."

"I agree, but like, they've got radio transmissions and stuff flying everywhere. There's no government or military leaders anymore. Here, listen." He flicked a switch.

" – view of this committee that the most likely perpetrator of this hideous attack on the Galbadian nation was Balamb Garden. Bad blood has existed for many years between the two entities, and the Garden is an expert organisation in such operations. They will not claim responsibility publicly, however we have substantial evidence arrayed against them. The Garden has disappeared, making it a more difficult target to find. It's leader, Squall Leonhart, was witnessed in Deling City just prior to the attack. He is known to have piloted a Ragnarok class vessel out of the city with a cargo hold full of civilians, we have just learned…"

Irvine switched off the radio. Squall snorted.

"Get someone to check the civilians for a radio transmitter. Tell them they aren't prisoners. As for the committee's 'findings,' they're completely ridiculous."

"You want them in full?" asked Irvine, indicating to Quistis. She started to read from a screen.

"Squall Leonhart, formally charged, etcetera… Ah, here we are. The murder of the population of Deling City, including its military and governmental figures. Assassination of the President of Galbadia. Possession of an illegal airship. The kidnap of Galbadian citizens. Committing an act of genocide. All as well as your original charges you received from General Caraway."

"One of the citizens I supposedly murdered," Squall added.

"So Squall, how does it feel to be the most wanted man on the planet?" asked Irvine, this time deadly serious.

Squall couldn't find a suitable response.

* * *

Deep within the remains of Deling City, there lay a power source. Most of the buildings had been liquefied on contact with the stream of monsters that now roamed the city, however this small, compact structure had withstood the trauma of impact. But being present in such a hostile environment was rapidly dissolving the structure, and with a final spark, the power died. 

Following the path of the power it provided, several lines had been demolished by the Lunar Cry. Two had still been receiving said power. One led to an underground bunker that housed several low ranking officials who were plunged into darkness. Another led to the main train depot.

A small sphere surrounding a pile of crushed cargo containers was free of the atmosphere of the monsters. A small creature tried to walk into it, sensing the natural air that all monsters craved, but an invisible force repelled it. Disgruntled, the creature trotted away.

The electromagnet shuddered with the withdrawal of power, and the force it exerted ceased to be. The cargo boxes piled on top of it clattered to the ground, and all was still for a few moments.

Then manic laughter filled the air, and a hand punched through one of the crates, clutching a silver necklace.

* * *

Author's Note:

Sorry, this got uploaded two days late because I lost track of the date, heh. Anyway...

Special thanks to: **Setra Kakan, Macky, Alpha2Omega, Thunderstorm101, Rakunya, **and** Brutal2003.** Rakunya recently asked when the "Faris" plotline would be looked at more closely -- it'll happen in due time. Just wait while other things are happening.


	35. A Betrayal in the Ranks

**Previously in Final Trinity...**

**Siegfried**, at the behest of a shadowy figure named **Ajuk**, gathered a group comprised of **Ultros, Raijin, Lucrecia, Elena, Lani, **and **Seymour**, to kill **Kain Highwind** and his compatriots. The two groups met on the battlefield, and if not for the sudden and unexpected appearance of **Yuna**, 'Team Highwind' would have been annihilated. Instead, they narrowly escaped to the relative shelter of the airship **Invincible**, but soon found out that they had been tracked down. With the airship currently unable to fly, the group, much to Kain's reluctance, was forced to prepare for battle. However, Kain announced that he had a plan, but it depended on the group's ability to work together, a feat they have thus far been mostly incapable of doing.

Chapter Thirty Five

A Betrayal in the Ranks

Siegfried rubbed at his ribs, where Cyan had slashed him just hours before. They'd been bandaged and healed, courtesy of Seymour's knowledge of White Magic, but they still itched. He would never get used to the sensation of skin re-knitting together magically. He was lucky, though. If it hadn't been for Elena appealing on his behalf, he surely would have died.

His team didn't mesh as well as it appeared. Oh, they had planned for every eventuality and conspired together to reveal their enemies' greatest weaknesses, and had exploited those weaknesses almost perfectly. But, there was no camaraderie. No team ethics. If a man fell on the battlefield, he'd be left behind unless his survival was absolutely necessary. And maybe not even then.

Siegfried wasn't sure it mattered. They'd had a decisive victory, even if their enemy has escaped. It was only a matter of time now, though.

They'd decided to rest in Kain's campsite for the evening, eating what was left of their meal and making use of their fire. Where they had gotten any wood to burn had been a mystery, but not as great a one as to why Kain's men had decided to gather a large pile of manure in the middle of the camp. Even so, they'd managed to rest and heal up, and were now moving at a careful pace through the desert, following Lani who claimed to be following a trail left by two large men, one staggering and wounded, and the other big enough to be Amarant Coral. Of course, she had claimed she couldn't find anyone else's trail, and this was the only one she could follow. Likely, her need for revenge had ensured that she could find no one else's. Unfortunately, Siegfried himself couldn't see any such trail in the sand. It all looked the same to him. He'd be grateful to return to civilization when this was all over.

"How much further?" Siegfried asked.

"I can only tell where the trail is going," Lani responded. "Not how long it is."

There was some grumbling about that. The sun was up in full force, and only a few of them had thought to bring water on this little excursion. Ultros in particular seemed about ready to fall over, while Seymour seemed completely unaffected by the weather. In fact, he even seemed amused at everyone else's condition.

"Do you at least know where they're going?" Siegfried demanded.

"Towards that funny mountain," Lain said, pointing ahead. "Smart move. Large rock formations like that usually mean water."

Elena said, "Good. We could use some right about now."

"Tell me about it," Ultros wheezed. "I'll be thankful when the sun goes down."

They spent the remaining daylight hours – of which there were many – that way, constantly complaining and griping at each other, in some cases snapping. The small mountain in the distance steadily came closer, and the sun was beginning to go down once more when they began to near it. They passed between a pair of large sand dunes, the light rapidly beginning to fade, and the wind picking up, a chill filling it. Siegfried would be glad once they captured their enemy. He'd enjoy killing them all.

He smiled to himself, actual warmth touching his features, despite the weather suddenly turning freezing cold. Today was going to be a good day after all. The wind picked up, and sand blew about, obscuring his vision for a moment. He covered his eyes and swore. The wind dropped, and he lowered his hand once more, and then saw the silhouette on the horizon, sitting in plain sight, covered only by the darkness of the new-found night.

Siegfried motioned with one hand, gesturing the men behind him to halt. He slowly drew his sword and moved forward.

"There's no need for that," the figure said.

Siegfried grunted, somewhat recognizing the voice. While he wasn't entirely familiar with it, the magic imbued into his rapier identified it as belonging to Rufus Shinra. The mercenary stepped forward confidently, but did not sheathe his weapon.

A second later, he could make out the figure more clearly. Rufus was sitting on a chair. Where he had gotten it from was anyone's guess, and in front of him was a table, a pitcher of what looked like water standing upon it alongside two cups. In front of the table was an empty chair. Siegfried's eyes narrowed. The whole thing seemed like a trap.

"And why not?" he asked warily.

"Because I mean you no harm."

"I somehow doubt that, Rufus Shinra," Siegfried said. "I know of you."

"Then you have me somewhat at a disadvantage. Your name is...?"

"Siegfried," he supplied. "Are you distracting me as your compatriots ambush me and my associates?"

"A good plan," the man conceded. "And under normal circumstances, one that would hold a great deal of merit. Unfortunately, my compatriots discovered you coming, and because Kain Highwind is honestly scared of you... he came up with a plan. They've discovered an airship--"

"In the middle of a desert?" Siegfried asked sceptically, raising an eyebrow. "Isn't that awfully convenient?"

"Why do you think the one Highwind serves sent us here? He wants us to excavate the airship. Amarant called it 'the Invincible.'"

A sudden jolt from his sword indicated a recognition at the name. It was warning him. This Invincible was part of his mission. He had to stop Kain from getting it somehow. But if they had already found it...

"Where is it?"

"Right behind us," Rufus said, making a vague gesture to behind him. "The large 'mountain' you see there is the airship. Kain is desperately trying to find out how to make it work in order to escape. He knows another confrontation with your group will end disastrously. But then again, so do I. But I am a Shinra, and a Shinra does not run from his enemies."

"So, what--"

"Sit, please, Mister Siegfried," Rufus said, gesturing to the chair.

Behind him, he could hear the mutter of his underlings, but Siegfried ignored them. It was good to be back amongst civilized company. At the very least, the conversation would more than likely be stimulating before he would be forced to kill the man. Smiling, he sat down, took up one of the glasses, and filled it to the brim with the water from the pitcher. Lord, but he was thirsty. The desert air really didn't agree with him at all. He was about to take a sip, and then abruptly frowned, looking at the glass.

"How do I know this isn't poisoned?" Siegfried abruptly asked.

"Ah, trust. A very desired, yet very rare, commodity in my line of business. We will need some trust if our transaction is to be complete."

Rufus took up the pitcher and poured himself his own glass, and took a very large gulp from it.

"And what is this transaction, exactly?" Siegfried asked.

"I know how to get into the Invincible," Rufus stated. "In exchange for my life and you returning me back to my world, I will give you access to the airship, and the occupants therein."

* * *

"This ain't gonna work," Amarant whispered, crouched down and hidden behind the dune like the half of the group he'd been assigned with. 

"It'll work," Shadow reaffirmed. "The plan is sound."

"Sound my ass. Too many people involved. Someone's gonna screw up. We can do the same plan with just me, you, Valentine an' maybe Highwind. We don't need the old geezer or the two broads."

"I'm right here, you know," Yuna said. Cyan made a grunt, and Fujin shifted, but said nothing.

"Just keep quiet," Shadow said.

Somehow, when he'd accepted that idiotic 'second in command' status, that had translated into 'lead the troops when Kain was elsewhere.' So here Shadow was, stuck with Amarant, Fujin, Yuna and Cyan. And of course, that left Kain with Vincent. Rufus was elsewhere, doing Rufus things. Personally, Shadow wouldn't have minded being paired with Valentine again. The man was a professional. The only upside about the current situation was that Fujin wasn't completely horrible.

The sun was nearly gone now, but Shadow could hear the enemy coming. But he didn't watch for them. His eyes were on Fujin, who had her ear stuck out, listening for them. She was the central part for the first part of Kain's plan, which admittedly, was good. As long as nobody screwed up.

Siegfried's group would be coming through the valley right about...

Fujin nodded once.

Shadow abruptly pointed at Amarant, and gestured to the right, then pointed at Fujin, and gestured to the left. The two slowly got on hands and knees and began scrambling to the directions indicated by Shadow. The assassin himself turned about and began to descend the sand dune, crawling backwards slowly. There was nothing to really grip onto in the sand to prevent him from falling, but if he allowed his hands and knees to sink in just enough, there should be no danger. He took his time moving, but didn't linger any longer than he had to. He had to make it quickly. The plan depended entirely on the first phase succeeding.

It was all simple. After Vincent had come back from his scouting and told everyone that the enemy was coming, and from which direction, Kain had come up with the perfect plan. They'd been bested on the field of battle in a fair fight. However, Kain had pointed out that many of their number – Shadow, Amarant, Fujin, Vincent and Rufus – were apparently adept at _not _fighting fair. Even Kain himself had some experience in that. Using that logic, the answer was simple. Why fight fair at all?

Phase One: Shadow, Fujin and Amarant sneak up on the enemy and pick off whoever they could without making any noise while Rufus distracted the enemy with a seeming betrayal. Phase two was a retreat, and a signal to Yuna and Valentine, who flanked either side of Siegfried's group. They'd pin the enemy down with gunfire. Once the enemy managed to get their defenses up, Kain would leap into the middle of them, accompanied by Cyan, who would be thrown into the foray by Amarant. After that, it'd be simple enough to rout them completely, if they hadn't been already. For all Shadow knew, he, Amarant and Fujin would be able to pick them all off. Or Vincent and Yuna would shoot the remainder. The whole thing was a lesson in overkill, but with these people, it looked like Kain wasn't risking anything.

Shadow crept through the darkness that was his namesake, making sure to stay out of the moonlight as much as possible. Darkness was his saint, silence his deity.

Up ahead, he could hear them now. They only appeared to be dark shapes, but their words travelled on the wind perfectly, sound reaching his ears.

"Should we trust him?" a woman's voice said.

"I see no reason why not to," came Siegfried's response. Shadow's eyes narrowed at the voice. Oh, how he'd enjoy slipping a pair of knives in between that man's ribs. Memories of his burning inn were more than enough, never mind putting up with the buffoon's idiocy before, or being tracked down like this.

"You promised him to me!" another woman shouted.

"I said we could trust him," Siegfried's said. "I never said he could trust us."

"I want Yuna," that irritatingly feminine voice said. Seymour. If there was any one that Shadow wanted to kill more than Siegfried, it'd probably be him. Just because he got on Shadow's nerves so damn much. "I care nothing at all for the rest. I want her. Alive."

Creeping closer, Shadow nearly swore. They were standing around in a full circle to discuss Rufus' 'betrayal.' Standing like that, there'd be no way to really sneak up on any of them and pick any of them off. He'd need to think of something else. Something intelligent and--

Oh no.

Shadow's jaw nearly dropped when he saw what Amarant was doing.

* * *

As soon as the general consensus was made – they would follow Rufus to a point, then betray and kill him – Siegfried turned back to the suited man and sat back down at the table, even taking up the glass of water in front of him and taking a long drink. The water on his aching throat felt good. 

"So, are we in agreement?" Rufus asked.

Siegfried could barely contain his smile. "Why yes, Mister Shinra. We are in agreement. You'll give us your comrades, and we'll take you back to your world."

"Good," Rufus said. The man smiled momentarily, then slipped a hand into his breast pocket. Siegfried immediately reached for his sword, but the man waved him down, withdrawing a vial of green glowing liquid.

"What's that?" the mercenary asked warily.

"Oh, this?" Rufus said. "I'll get to this in a second. You see... It's funny. I've been speaking with the other members of my little 'party.' That is what you call a ragtag group of adventurers seeking to save the world, isn't it? Anyway, I was speaking with my party, and I found the most fascinating thing. There are many different things about our worlds, but the most startlingly difference that I discovered is that other worlds don't have what mine calls 'the Lifestream.' The Lifestream is what makes up our world. It's what allows life to exist at all. Unfortuntately, about forty years back, a Professor by the name of Gast discovered that Mako – the scientific name given to liquid that makes up the Lifestream – could actually be used as a power source. Of course, there were the dubious protestations that we would, in essence, be using human spirits – even animal and plant ones – to power our toasters and lights, and maybe even end the world. But that didn't matter to my father. It turned Shin-Ra Electric into Shin-Ra Incorporated, a company that in effect ruled the world."

A sudden commotion started up from behind, and Siegfried hurriedly turned to see what it was. In the darkness, he could see forms shifting about in a mass mêlée. He began to stand up and reached for his weapon. Rufus' voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Sit, Mister Siegfried." When the mercenary did so, compelled by something in the very man's voice, Rufus continued, "Your companions mean nothing at the moment. You see, your entire life hinges on what I have to say now."

With every word, Siegfried could feel his form hammered into position more and more. Panic filled his veins. He wanted to stand, to jump into the noise behind him and help his allies fight off what was undoubtedly an enemy attack. But Rufus' eyes and words held him to where he sat.

The former President continued, "You see, I have a point to this entire history lesson. The Lifestream is life. But, with all things, too much of a good thing will kill you. So if for some reason you _ingested_ Mako, the liquid essence of life, it could very well act as an effective poison."

"You bastard," the white haired man spat. "You're lying. Even if you did poison the water, which you're clearly implying, you had some, too."

"Oh, I did. But you see, one doesn't work for Shin-Ra for very long without being exposed to Mako on a regular basis. So, people such as myself have developed a resistance to it. Oh, Mako could still very well poison me, it's true. But it would take a far larger amount that what you ingested."

"Then if I'm going to die, I'll take you with me."

Rufus smiled a cold smile. Death was in his eyes. "No, Mister Siegfried, you won't. Because, you see, what's in this vial isn't poison. It's an antidote. And, naturally, you'll get it if you cooperate with me."

* * *

Amarant Coral considered himself fairly stealthy. He also liked to think he was intelligent, which in fact, he was. But the problem with Amarant's brand of intelligence was that it was incredibly short-sighted. While he could frequently see through problems that others over-complicated, he never seemed to have the patience for problems that required extra thinking. So, when the overly large man saw that 'The Plan' was already going awry in its early stages, instead of thinking a way around it, he acted. 

Instead of sneaking, he walked boldly towards the group of enemies which were in a fervent discussion about how to take Rufus' 'betrayal.' Coming up behind Seymour, he tapped the man's shoulder. As the effeminate man turned to face him, Amarant pulled back his fist and unleashed as hard as he could, landing a rock-shattering blow across the man's jaw. Shadow had told him how he had turned into bright lights and razzle-dazzle when dealt a fatal blow, but a knock out punch sent the man sprawling and unconscious.

Immediately, the purple octopus, Ultros was attacking the monk. A tentacle slapped him in the face, a blow that hurt a lot more than Amarant figured it would have. Another tentacle hit him in the ribs. He made a slashing motion with his left fist, his Rune Claws cutting into the rubbery flesh. Instead of a scream, though, the octopus let out a chortle.

"Can't cut me! I'm Ultros! I always heal up!"

More tentacles slapped at Amarant, and the mercenary was forced to give ground. His only advantage was that as Ultros' appendages wildly slapped at him, they also got in the way of the monster's allies, preventing them from getting at him and flanking him.

Two tentacles sailed out, one to either side, catching both of Amarant's arms. Immediately others followed, pummelling into the man's ribs, and Amarant Coral suddenly began to question the wisdom of his plan.

"Pound that son of a bitch!" Lani called. "Show him who's the toughest!"

All about, cheers sounded, and Amarant looked up, as if in a daze. A tentacle slammed into his jaw, rocketing his head to the side, sending his vision spinning. Another one drove into his ribs. He spat out blood. His ribs creaked.

"Figures Amarant Coral would get beat down by a stupid squid."

He knew that voice.

Amarant's head jerked up, and suddenly, it was if the world around him had disappeared. The desert was still there, and he was still being held up by invisible arms, but he couldn't see his enemies. They were all gone. Ultros and Lani weren't there, nor any of the others. Around him he could still hear their yells and cheers, and he could still feel the pain of every hit, but it was muted. His focus was entirely on the boy standing in front of him.

"You're just a--" he coughed out some blood, then continued, "--just a figment o' my ... imagination."

"Of course I am," Zidane Tribal responded, a grin on his face. "I'm on an entirely different world right now. Hey, I might even be dead. You did set that Ultima spell off back in Shinra Tower with me still in the same room as you. But right now, yeah, you're so beaten up you're seeing things. Makes me wonder why your brain decided to conjure me up."

"'Cause you beat me up once," Amarant muttered. "Prob'ly somethin' to do with that."

"Nah. I'm your moral compass! Your conscience! And right now, I'm telling you, you screwed up. Again."

"No kiddin'. I'm getting' beat up by a godamn octopus. We done this little chat? Can I get back to bein' killed? Cuz really, talkin' to you while it's happenin' is really godamn depressing."

"Oh come on! Where's your spirit? I thought you were the 'Flaming Amarant.' So, you screwed up and went off on your own, _again_. Probably messed up your group doing so, too. They were expecting to follow a plan, which you screwed up. Now, you have to fix that by giving them an opening."

"How'm I supposed to do that? Godamn octopus... is beatin' the crap outta me. Fucker can't be cut. He just heals up. Keeps hittin' me."

'Zidane' hopped from one foot to the next, even going so far as to draw a few daggers and begin to juggle them. Figment Zidane seemed to have ADD as badly as real Zidane. "You promise to make a distraction for your group big enough for them to recover the plan, and I'll tell you how to beat Ultros."

"I die... you die. You're me, just tellin' me I'm stupid."

"Just promise, dimwit."

"Fine! I promise! Now tell me how I can cut that fucker up and keep him from poundin' me!"

Zidane flashed a smile and winked. "Don't cut him unless you have to, and pound him back."

Amarant came roaring back to reality with another tentacle across the face. He staggered a little bit, and realized, Ultros wasn't holding his legs. Just his hands. If he could get his hands free...

A devilish thought came to him. Or just _one_ hand free.

Twisting his wrist, Amarant brought his Rune Claws at an angle and sawed at the tentacle holding that arm. Ultros yelped and let go, but kept a firm grip on Amarant's other arm. It didn't matter, though.

Ultros was used to people carving and hacking at him, trying to rely more on agility and magic to beat him. But that was the thing. Ultros had never fought the Flamin' Amarant before. And right then, Amarant had Ultros just where he wanted him.

Grabbing onto the tentacle that was holding his arm with both hands, Amarant jerked as hard as he could. Not expecting the sheer strength of the man, Ultros was jerked from his spot on the ground, sailing towards the mercenary, and directly into his fist. Rune Claws dug right into the fleshy surface of the octopus' head, but it was Amarant's knuckles, slamming into the monster's face, that did the real damage. Unused to taking blunt hits so, Ultros was left immediately dazed. Which gave Amarant his golden opportunity to make his distraction.

Lifting with everything he had, he began to spin around in a circle, the mass of Ultros becoming a wrecking ball of destruction as it sailed through the air. The improvised mace slammed into Elena on the first spin, and nearly took out Lani on the second, but the girl, far too agile for her own good, managed to narrowly scamper out of the way. On the third, Seymour was beginning to get up, nursing an obviously sore head. Amarant made sure to lay him out flat with the flying octopus.

"Aaaaaaaaaahhhh!" Ultros screamed as he was swung through the air. "Leeeeeeet meeeeeeeeee gooooooooo! I'm goooonnnnnna huuuuuuuuurl!"

Abruptly, a green fountain of liquid began to spurt from the octopus' mouth, splashing anyone who came near. Amarant didn't care. None of it got on him. But even as he continued to spin about, using his newfound weapon with great and devastating affect, he could begin to feel his arms slowly give out. His grip began to loosen, his muscles screaming in agony. Little rest, and that stunt back in Shinra Tower and the beating he had just taken were all taxing him. He was going to let go soon, and when he did, he'd be swarmed over. He just had to hold on for a bit longer until his allies made best advantage of the moment.

He'd promised.

* * *

"What do you want?" Siegfried spat, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. 

He played out trying to take the antidote from Rufus in his head. He imagined trying to reach for it, throwing himself across the table in a desperate attempt to snatch it before the man could throw it, or smash or, or even draw a weapon and kill him. He knew Rufus was no fighter – his rapier had told him so, whispering words of knowledge to him in his sleep – but he also knew the man was somehow dangerous.

He twitched forward, but Rufus raised an eyebrow, and smirked, a superior expression adorning his handsome features. The man held the vial further back, acknowledging that he knew Siegfried wanted to take it from him by force, and making a silent threat. Don't try to take it, or I'll break it.

"What every smart man in the world wants," Rufus said, then stopped, correcting himself, "Sorry. What everyone in _all_ the worlds wants. Knowledge. Of all the powers I have sampled, knowledge has always been my favourite. So, I want you to tell me everything about yourself, Siegfried. Everything important, anyway. Starting with, who sent you?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, trying to be evasive. "I'm a, uh, bounty hunter, and there's a price on Shad--"

Rufus threw back his head and laughed, and suddenly he dropped the vial in his hand. Siegfried's heart leapt as it fell, but Rufus caught it, ceasing all laughter as he did, his expression turning deadly serious. "Please. Spare me from that. No bounty hunter is going to travel across multiple worlds, collecting a ragtag group of incompetents who just _happen _to know everyone Kain Highwind has assembled. No, you were all gathered for a purpose. By someone we more than likely don't know. Who is it? Is it some sort of rival of Golbez?"

"I don't know! I don't know Golbez, or any of what you're doing. I was hired by a man – at least, I think it's a man – named Ajuk."

Rufus' eyes narrowed. "Ajuk. I know the name. The man tried to kill me in my office. Tell me more about him. What are his intentions? Why does he want us all dead?"

"I don't know. Something about a game. Him and some other side. At least, that's what he calls it. He called his opponents the, uh... the Central, I think."

"The Central? Is that some sort of organization?"

"No... not Central," Siegfried said, trying to claw at his memory. He felt his pulse race. He was beginning to get a little hot. That must be the poison. He began to panic. He needed that antidote. "The Cetra! He called someone a 'Cetra', and they were an enemy. It might've been Golbez he was speaking of! Please, give me the antidote!"

But Rufus seemed pensive, speaking to himself and completely ignoring Siegfried. "The Cetra? That changes much. I thought they had been wiped out. Everyone from my world had. But... the legend does go... yes. The Cetra travel from world to world, cultivating life, and moving on. So _that's_ what that means. So, does that make Golbez a Cetra?"

"Please! The antidote!"

"Oh," Rufus said, suddenly coming back to reality. "I'm sorry. I had completely forgot you were there. Catch."

Rufus tossed the vial almost negligently, throwing it to the side. Diving from his chair, Siegfried caught it, and landed in the dirt. He didn't even stop to get up. He unstoppered the vial, and quickly quaffed the contents down. The liquid burned at his throat as it went down, but he'd never tasted anything so good in his life. As soon as he was finished, he stood back up, growling in anger, drawing his sword.

"You fool," Siegfried said. "You should never have given me the antidote. Now I'm going to kill--"

He stopped as he saw the expression on Rufus' face. The man's smile belied mirth, but it didn't touch those cold, emotionless eyes. The blond man merely smiled, as if he knew of some great secret.

"I'm not the fool," Rufus said. "After all, I'm not the one who just willingly drank poison in exchange for betraying his master."

"What?"

Siegfried looked to the pitcher of water, then back to the empty vial that had been discarded on the ground. "But... the water was poisoned! You said so!"

"I lied," the man countered. "Even with a supposed tolerance, do you _really _think that I would subject myself to possible poisoning? Besides, where would I get Mako from in the middle of a desert? Do you think I just keep the stuff on my person? How gullible are you?"

"You're lying again! If that's true, where did you get poison in the desert?"

Siegfried coughed, and he lifted his hand to cover his mouth. When he pulled it away, it was covered in blood. He looked up to Rufus, horror on his own features.

"Why, the airship's coolant supply, of course. You'd be surprised what kinds of chemicals that are harmful to human life you could find in a ship that size."

Siegfried's strength suddenly gave out, his knees folding in on themselves, unable to support his weight. He gripped onto his rapier as hard as he could, calling out the name of his master as he did.

"Ajuk...! Please... Master Ajuk... I need you..."

* * *

While Kain couldn't see what was going on down below, he could certainly hear the commotion. Immediately he wanted to charge in, spear at the ready, and slice away at the enemies that had so doggedly pursued them. 

Instead, he forced an utter calm upon himself. Today, he was the Captain. He tried to imagine himself on the deck of the Red Wings' flagship. Closing his eyes, he could nearly feel the winds tugging at him, could hear the propellers whine.

"Now," he said, his voice expressionless.

Abruptly, Vincent, who lay beside him, began to fire. Shots echoed throughout the night, and across the valley, the sound of Yuna's firing followed up. Abruptly there were screams of pain, people yelling for cover. Kain prayed that none of his own people got hit. It was a risky chance, but one that needed to be taken to avoid a frontal assault, which would more than likely end in a loss.

Opening his eyes, Kain strained to see if he could make out any forms below. The gunfire provided brief flashes of light, but nothing to even come close to illuminating the dark valley below. Vincent abruptly stopped shooting, paused and reloaded, then commenced again. Second clip. The plan said, Vincent was to go through three clips, then cast a Fire spell in the valley, to signal Yuna to stop firing, and to give Kain and Cyan all the light they would need in order to mount a direct assault.

The second clip emptied even faster than the first, and abruptly, Vincent was reloaded and already pouring out rounds of ammunition once more. Kain tried not to count the seconds, but as soon as Vincent was out again, the man didn't even pause to reload. He merely lifted his golden gauntlet and focused on one of the green orbs set in the side.

Red light flashed below, and all gunfire from across the way ceased. Kain stood even as he could see the end result of the battle. Forms below were sprawled about. Seymour was obviously unconscious, and Raijin was down, receiving a thorough beating from Fujin, who was kicking his prone form. Elena was clutching at a wounded leg, having been shot there, and Lani was holding her abdomen, suffering the same type of injury. Lucrecia was nowhere to be seen, and in the middle of it all, Amarant stood, chest heaving, holding Ultros by a tentacle, the octopus appearing unconscious and very bloodied and covered with some sort of fluid that Kain couldn't identify in the poor lighting.

"Did we win?" Kain heard himself ask.

"Down!" Vincent called, and Kain instinctively dropped, every muscle in his body loosening and allowing to fall all at once.

Pink light flared in a column at Rufus' location, and Kain swore. Magic. It had to be. Neither Shadow nor Cyan had mentioned anything about Siegfried possessing any significant magic, other than cheap parlour tricks to amuse the casual observer. Something else was happening.

"Should I--?" Vincent began to ask, but Kain cut him off.

"No. Rufus is there. You might hit him."

Instead, Kain was instantly in a crouched position, and lept upwards, sailing through the air in a mighty Dragoon leap. In the new light, Kain could see others running to the position; Shadow was keeping to the darkness, Fujin beside him, and Amarant had discarded his improvised weapon and was lumbering forward. Cyan, who had been on the dune, was trailing behind them all, and Yuna and Vincent were sure to be abandoning their positions for more favourable ones. Kain landed solidly on the ground, his footing sure despite the sand he impacted on.

"Ajuk!" Siegfried's voice called.

And in the column of pink light stepped forth a figure, dressed in flowing purple robes of a magic user. The figure tossed his effeminate head to one side, letting purple hair flow about.

Kain levelled his spear at the figure, setting himself for a charge. Even as he did, out of the corner of his left eye, he began to see Seymour stir. He swore. If he turned from this figure to attack Seymour, he could be leaving himself open to an attack. If he didn't--

His allies were behind him. Maybe they could deal with Seymour. For now, Kain kept himself focused on the newcomer, this Ajuk.

"Ajuk, help me!" Siegfried cried. "I've been poisoned!"

"Again?" the figure's voice said. His voice sounded almost like two voices overlapping each other, one male, one female, combined seemingly sexless.

Amarant came to a stop beside Kain and barked, "Don't know why you're calling him 'Ajuk.' I'd recognize that voice anywhere, and those sissy clothes."

"You know him?" Kain asked, startled.

"Yeah," Amarant responded. "His name's Kuja, and he's supposed to be dead. I should know. I helped put him in the ground. Guess Zidane didn't finish the job."

"Is he dangerous?"

"Very."

"I hit him high, you hit him low. We can take him by surprise."

But even as Amarant nodded, a brilliant flash appeared to their right, and the sound of maniacal laughter filled the air. Everyone about flinched as a new figure appeared, laughing like a madman. The very sound sent shivers of fear up Kain's spine.

Kain darted his glance around, and saw that his entire party, now gathered about him, was flanked between the three figures. Seymour, Kuja, and--

"Kefka!" Shadow hissed. "You're supposed to be dead."

The figure laughed once more. "Perhaps. And maybe I still am! But here I am to haunt you anyway, both you and Cyan! And you both have something of mine, and you will give it to me!"

"Please!" Siegfried called once more, beginning to hack up blood.

A flash of blue and white energy came from Seymour's direction, impacting into Siegfried's chest, exploding it in a haze of blood. Seymour turned to Kuja, a smirk on his face. "You're his Master, aren't you? The one who attempted to control me through him? Fool. No one controls Seymour Guado."

Kuja seemed completely disinterested and slightly bored with the statement, even taking the time to inspect his nails before saying, "Well, I honestly thought that someone of your pathetic calibre would never stand against me."

Kefka cackled once more. "You all bore me. Time for everyone to die!"

"They're mine," Kuja stated calmly. "You cannot have them. They're pawns greater than you can comprehend. Go back to your magicless grave, clown."

All three mages glared balefully at each other, exchanging glances. Auras of magical energy surrounded all three, preparing to unleash in a destructive torrent. And there was Kain's group, directly in the middle of it.

Author's Note:

TO BE CONTINUED! Dun dun dun! Wow, I just never give Kain's group a break, eh? Sorry about the delays. I'm trying to get back on track, but it's just not working out lately. Ah well. We didn't get many reviews last chapter, but still, I'll thank **Macky, Alpha2Omega,** and **Brutal2003** regardless! Thanks, guys! Do we ever appreciate the reviews!

Also, I would really like to thank **LadyDeathwish** for her support, input and her ideas for this chapter. Thank you very much!


	36. Real Time

**Squall'**s team is reunited under duress - the **Lunar Cry** has decimated the city of **Deling** into rubble, while **Zidane** has been badly beaten in combat with **Gilgamesh** and **Tseng**, the Dimensional Guardians of Fire and Water, because he disobeyed his master **Golbez**'s orders to kill Squall and the others. Squall's thoughts now turn to the mysterious **Cloud Strife**, who escaped the devastation of the **Lunar ****Cry** with the others on board the **Ragnarok**, and to the captured Tseng, who is being held in the vessel's holding cells

Chapter Thirty Six

Real Time

Squall, Irvine and Quistis sat, subdued and exhausted, in the cockpit of the vessel.

"So like…what are we going to do now?" asked Irvine.

Squall sat contemplating his options. As he did, the radio he'd taken from a dead Galbadian soldier started to crackle.

"…Leonhart, do you read? Squall Leonhart of Balamb Garden, can you hear me?"

Hesitatingly, he took up the radio in his hand and looked at Quistis, who nodded. He pressed the button on the side of the radio to speak.

"This is Leonhart."

"Mr. Leonhart, you are speaking with the newly appointed President of Galbadia. Go ahead, Sir, he can hear you." A new voice emanated from the radio.

"Mr. Leonhart, this is the President. You have a lot to answer for, young man."

Squall pursed his lips, and then made his response. "With all due respect, Sir, I have nothing to answer for. And please, call me Squall."

"Well then, Squall, our records show that our General Caraway – who is missing, presumed dead, like the rest of the citizens in Deling – had arrested you in conjunction with an imminent terrorist attack upon our nation. An attack that later transpired to be the Lunar Cry, a most unspeakable and heinous act."

"I agree, the Lunar Cry is the worst conceivable attack any one person could make to any nation. And regarding the status of the General, I think you can safely say he's dead – he and the rest of the citizens of Deling. No one could survive the Lunar Cry."

"Now allow me to fill in the gaps. You escaped custody from the military transport train, somehow evading or emerging victorious over an entire battalion of men, and arranging for your colleagues to come and rescue you on board your – now illegal – Ragnarok class vessel, on which you now hold several dozen Galbadian citizens hostage to ensure we do not shoot your vessel down immediately."

Squall sighed, and then depressed the button. "Those accusations are false, Mr President, however it sounds like you've already made up your mind. I wasn't responsible for the deaths of the people in Deling City, nor am I holding these refugees hostage. I will arrange for them to be returned to the nearest Galbadian outpost once we have established there's nothing more we can do for them. However, you do what you have to do."

"Thank you for your approval, Mr Leonhart. What I have to do, then, is to announce that a formal state of war now exists between the nation of Galbadia and Balamb Garden. Goodbye, sir."

Squall set down the radio, not bothering to acknowledge the President. The transmission clicked off.

Quistis and Irvine regarded him gravely. He started to give orders.

"Irvine, get us out of Galbadian airspace. They might decide to shoot us down anyway. Quistis, head back and see how the civilians are doing, and then go speak to our new guest. I'll be along shortly." She left the room. Squall loitered several moments after she did so.

Irvine finally turned to face him. "I know."

"You disobeyed a direct order, Irvine."

"I know," he reiterated. "And I'm sorry. You were right, I was wrong. We couldn't save everyone. I just…" He looked away, a vague horror sweeping his face. "I couldn't do it, you know? Like…all those people, we weren't at capacity, and I just thought…if it was me out there, I'd want to know the person on the ship had done everything they could. Even if I didn't get rescued, at least they'd done their best."

"We did do our best," said Squall. He was struggling with his own emotions surrounding the atrocity they had just witnessed, and even under normal circumstances he wasn't the best person to give advice about a person's feelings.

"I know…but I just wanted you to know, that I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"I doubt that sort of thing will happen very often, so it probably isn't an issue," said Squall, backing down. He couldn't blame Irvine for disobeying under such circumstances.

"How did you know, anyway?" asked Irvine. Squall looked at him, puzzled. "If we hadn't have moved right then, that last bit of red monster goo would've hit us. We'd have crash landed in the city, and been dead now."

"I didn't. I just got a feeling," said Squall. He turned and left, walking towards the cargo hold.

He thought about what Irvine had said. If Squall hadn't given the order to move, they would have crash-landed. But Squall was on the verge of agreeing with Irvine, and he remembered what Cloud had said about having to leave "them" behind. But how did Cloud know? He had said that to Squall before he even knew what the Lunar Cry was, let alone that it was going to hit. He was in one of those strange trances the entire time they had fought Kefka, and 'woken up' just after he'd given Squall the warning.

He went to walk to where he suspected Cloud was being held, but the intercom sounded. It was Reno.

"Hey Squall, would you mind getting your ass down to the cargo hold?"

The SeeD leader shook his head, clearing the cobwebs of thought from his mind, and turned to change direction. He would need to get some sleep soon, before he collapsed from exhaustion. He, Irvine and Quistis had been going at this the longest. He thought back and the last time he remembered being unconscious for reasons other than being hit on the head was when they had taken the SeeD carriage on the train to Deling City. When it had still existed. That was…as far as he could figure out, it was two days since he had slept. Or eaten properly. Red had given them food in the Midgar slums, but only Locke had used the kitchen facilities in the SeeD hideout in Timber. The Galbadians hadn't provided their prisoners with food.

As he neared the cargo hold, an angry chatter slowly filled the air. He trotted the last few steps to see Reno holding back the assembled crowds of the Galbadian refugees. With his pistol.

One of the citizens went to rush him, but he spotted the movement and waved the gun in the man's face. "You don't want to do that," he said, pulling the hammer on the weapon back. "Don't test me on this."

Squall raised his hands, and the civilian's noise lowered to a murmur. He saw Avira sitting on the upper gangway, keeping the people from going to the upper levels of the ship.

"Can I have your attention, please. You've probably heard reports through your radios that I'm sure some of you are carrying that you're being held hostage. I assure you, this isn't the case. You probably also heard that I was the one to set off that Lunar Cry, however that is also not the case. We are currently in negotiations with your government to arrange for your safe return. In the meantime, please try and remain calm. You have to stay in this cargo hold for your safety; this ship has a very strange configuration, and we don't want people wandering off and getting themselves hurt. We will provide food, water and medical attention as much as we can, and I'll keep you apprised of the situation as it develops. Thank you," he finished.

The crowd seemed vaguely satisfied with this explanation of events, of back away from the entrance. Reno holstered his pistol.

"You can be quite eloquent when you want to be, huh?" he asked, and Squall just shrugged. "That's more like it," Reno approved, and Squall rolled his eyes.

"Try and keep things calm down here," said Squall. "I don't know how you used to do it in the Turks, but waving a gun in a frightened crowd's face isn't generally the best way to keep them subdued."

"I'll bear that in mind," said Reno, snapping Squall a mock salute.

He nodded at Avira from across the distance, and she smiled back at him. Communication didn't seem necessary with Avira; at least, verbal communication didn't.

He saw Zidane sat leaning against a bulkhead and went to speak with him.

"You look in a bad way," he said, and Zidane just stared bemusedly at him. His eye was still swollen shut, and his bottom lip looked three times its normal size, but Avira had cleared most of the blood away so only bruising remained.

"So I hear you're mixed up in this portal affair?" Zidane just nodded. He looked very downcast at the moment, and Squall couldn't help feeling a little pity for the boy. Only a little.

"Yeah. I was the Dimensional Guardian of Air. Now look at me."

Squall considered this. "Well, I can't say I know much about you, but I know what it's like trying to balance orders with your conscience. And it looks like you picked your conscience over an order, so that tells me you're at least capable of being a good person."

Zidane looked a little brighter after this analysis.

"Besides, I think you'd have to really piss someone off to give you a beating like that."

Zidane looked a little resentful, but then almost smiled. "I was lulling them into a false sense of security."

"Sure you were," said Squall, and patted Zidane on the shoulder. "I'll speak with you later."

On his way outside, he stopped by Reno momentarily, all good humour gone from his face. "Watch him, and if he's tries anything…" He trailed off, intentionally leaving the order ambiguous.

"With pleasure," Reno murmured.

The SeeD nodded and went to walk back towards his original objective: Cloud.

The man was truly an enigma. Back in the Shinra Tower he had tortured Quistis for information, yet he claimed to have no knowledge of the event. He seemed to be three people; the quiet, catatonic, brainwashed man they had found working for Domino, the ruthlessly effective fighting machine they had seen fight Sephiroth, and the man he seemed to be now.

Squall didn't know which one had somehow gotten a hold of the timer indicating the remaining minutes and seconds until the Lunar Cry arrived, but he intended to find out.

He found Cloud in the engineering section, with Quistis. As he approached them, he frowned at Quistis. He had meant for her to go and speak with the prisoner she had caught at Timber, not with Cloud.

"I'm fine," she said. "Really."

He nodded, and turned to Cloud. He was staring at them with an open, plain expression on his face. He was certainly confusing.

He decided not to tackle the issue of his apparent multiple personality disorder and went to the thing that was most bothering him. "Back in Deling City, you told me that I had to 'leave them behind.' If I hadn't ordered the Ragnarok to leave when I did, we would've been hit and destroyed. What I want to know is: how did you know, if that's what you were talking about then, and if you weren't, then what did you mean?"

"I honestly don't remember."

Squall regarded him silently. If he wanted to play difficult, Squall could play it that way too.

"I mean it. I remember that man appearing in the train, and then I must have blacked out. I woke up sitting on the ground with you and Locke."

"So you don't have any recollection of the time in between?" asked Quistis.

Cloud shook his head. Exasperated, Squall turned to walk away.

"Wait," said Cloud. He was gazing thoughtfully at the ground, squinting in concentration. "I remember…I remember something. I remember seeing…everything."

"What do you mean?" asked Quistis, but Squall already knew what to ask him.

"Could you see?" asked Squall, echoing the words he had heard Cloud speak every time he had sunk in and out of the trance. "All of it?"

Cloud looked at him in shock. "Yes. Those are exactly the words I was thinking. How did you know that?"

"I've heard them spoken before. So what did you mean? What could you see?"

"Well…everything. I'm still not certain, I don't remember exactly…but everything that's ever happened."

"That's a bit vague," admitted Quistis. Cloud exhaled impatiently, but at himself.

"I'm sorry. I wish I could be more helpful. Because then I might be able to figure out what exactly is going on. I hate this feeling…it's just like him."

"What do you mean?" asked Squall.

"In the past, I've been controlled by others, I haven't been in control of my actions. It would be just like him to find some way to do it again, but that's impossible."

"Why is it impossible?"

"Because he's dead."

"Who is 'he'? Sephiroth?"

Cloud's eyes widened. "Yes. How did you know? Aren't you from an another dimension?"

"Yes…but I have some bad news for you, Cloud. Sephiroth is still alive."

Cloud's mouth opened and closed several times, trying to find words to say. Then his eyes creased at the edges, as if he was going to shed tears, but then his face hardened.

"How long?"

"We don't know any more than you do. All I know is that he was running around the Shinra Building while we were there, and when I fought him he was very formidable."

"You fought him and lived?" asked Cloud.

"Yes. I had help. Lots of help. He escaped, though."

"Typical," Cloud snorted.

"Listen, if you remember anything else, let me know."

He went to walk away again, but Cloud stopped him once more.

"I remember seeing a girl. She was…she looked familiar. Green eyes? Was I imagining her?"

"Avira?" asked Squall. "No, she's in the cargo hold."

Cloud's eyes looked hopeful for a moment, and then he frowned. "Avira? Are you sure?"

Squall nodded.

"Oh…well. It must not be her then."

Squall nodded at Cloud and Quistis in turn, and then left the room.

He wondered idly who Cloud was talking about for a few moments, remembering he had heard Reno saying something about Avira being a dead ringer for someone he had met. Probably someone in their distant past.

The final item on his agenda: speak with this newcomer Quistis and the others had captured. Luckily the government of Esthar had extensively retrofitted the Ragnarok after the incident with Ultimecia, and this stretched to include a holding area for detaining prisoners. It was there he walked to, and there he found Tseng.

"I don't think we've been formally introduced," stated Squall. "My name is Squall Leonhart."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr Leonhart. My name is Tseng."

"No last or given name?"

"Simply Tseng."

Squall nodded. "I understand you're involved in what's going on around here."

"If by 'what's going on around here' you are referring to the nature of the multiple dimensions, and if by 'you are involved' you are referring to my status as the Dimensional Guardian of Water, then yes. You would be correct."

"Care to fill me in on any of those details?"

"I believe the former Guardian of Air has informed your subordinate of everything that needs to be known. I sensed he had informed another when I touched his mind."

"Why don't you give me a recap?"

"Very well. There are four Dimensional Guardians, one for each element. We are all presumed dead in our home dimensions, and forbidden from travelling there by our superior. We have physical characteristics representing our elements. We have a low level telepathic link with one another. I think those are the basics."

"What about why you want to kill us? I assume that's why you're being so open with me."

"Indeed – you will all perish soon, so informing you of the situation brings no harm. It merely makes the game more interesting. You have repeatedly meddled where you should have walked away and returned home. Even now, you are violating the natural order by bringing extra-nationals into your home dimension."

"But we would have died."

Tseng shrugged. "A small price to pay to preserve the natural order of things."

"So why are you so adamantly trying to kill us? I'm sure you don't go around massacring everyone who accidentally wanders into another dimension."

"You would be correct in your estimation. You are a strange group, formed by chance. Under normal circumstances, perhaps, you would be a welcome addition to the forces of good, however as it stands you are unnecessary. There is another team of warriors wandering the dimensions, battling Sephiroth. They are lead by a man named Kain, and they have been tasked with this trial. You, however, have stumbled into this game by accident, and are therefore a liability. An unknown factor. Better to have rid of you than to risk you upsetting the balance."

"I have news for you, Tseng," said Squall. "Sephiroth isn't your only problem. There are other threats wandering around out there. A man named Kefka attacked us at Deling City. Someone has unleashed the Lunar Cry upon this dimension, and somehow linked with that event is a man named Cloud Strife, a, like you referred to them earlier, extra-national."

"Strife?" asked Tseng. "He was responsible for that?"

"I didn't say that. He's involved somehow."

"This is most irregular," pondered Tseng. "I did not think Strife was capable of an act of genocide. How is he involved?"

Squall smiled faintly. "So we're not without our uses."

Tseng narrowed his eyes. "…Perhaps not. But I have had my path set before me, and I must follow it."

"No you don't," said Zidane from the doorway, where he had been listening unnoticed by either man.

"That is because you are a traitor," Tseng nearly spat.

"No. You know me, Tseng. I'm as committed as you are to keeping the dimensions inviolate. But something else is going on here, these people aren't just a random element. They've uncovered, or started to reveal, other factors that have nothing to do with Sephiroth. They may end up being more of a threat than Sephiroth poses. Don't throw this resource away."

Reno jogged into the room, slightly out of breath. "Uhm, sorry Squall, he kind of slipped away from me," he said. Squall's eyes widened in surprise upon actually hearing an apology from the former Turk. He seemed to pick up on this. "That is…what I meant to say was…he slipped away from me – no…wait. I've got it. If you'd have wanted an eye keeping on him, you should've done it your God damn self. "

"I see you haven't changed much, Reno," said Tseng from his holding cell.

Reno shrugged. "You know, same old, same old."

"Women and beer?"

"Not so much recently. I'm working on it, though."

Tseng mulled over some thought in his head.

"Talk to Golbez," said Zidane. "He'll listen to you, more than the others. Try and make him see that we can work together on this. We don't have to be enemies."

Tseng pondered for a few more moments. "If I do – _if_ – this will not be an act of disobedience. It will be asking my master to rectify his thinking, to merely ask whether he is sure this is the correct course of action. If he disagrees with me, I will be bound by duty to kill you all as before."

"We understand," said Squall.

Tseng closed his eyes, and started murmuring. Before long he was pausing to listen to a reply in his mind, and then murmured something in response.

Over the course of the exchange, his expression ranged from rapt attention to bewilderment. Finally, he uttered one last phrase and a look of muted disbelief washed over his face. He opened his eyes slowly, but didn't speak.

"…Well?" asked Zidane, impatiently.

"He…I…" said Tseng. "I'm no longer the Guardian of Water."

"_What?_" exclaimed Zidane.

"He told me that questioning his commands indicated to him that I was already in league with you, and as a result have failed in my duty to kill you."

"That's ridiculous," said Zidane.

"Not to Golbez. He told me that in a time like we currently exist in, he does not have time to worry if his orders would be carried out without question. Since I raised a question, this was apparently enough for him to deem me unfit for my duty in the capacity of Water Guardian and released me of my position."

"How does it feel to get fired, Boss?" asked Reno.

Zidane walked over to the restraining field that lay across the door, focusing on Tseng's eyes. After a moment he turned back to Squall.

"He's telling the truth. It's not in there anymore – he's like me now."

The intercom buzzed, and Squall jumped slightly, so wrapped up in the conversation he was.

"That's an interesting development," he said, walking to the door. "The two of you stay in here, talk with him. No offence Tseng, but I'll be keeping you locked up a little longer – even if what you say is true."

He flipped the switch on the wall outside. Irvine's voice floated out of it.

"We're picking up a transmission. Low bandwidth, almost didn't notice it."

"I'm on my way," said Squall. He jogged to the cockpit, where a monitor awaited him to receive the radio hail.

"Put it up," he said to Irvine, and the monitor flickered to life.

Laguna Loire, the President of Esthar's face filled the small monitor.

"Hi Squall," he said amicably. Squall nodded awkwardly in reply; the small camera mounted above the seat he sat in picking up his movements and broadcasting them back along the radio waves. Squall was reasonably certain that the President was actually his father, but had never gained the courage to broach the subject with him. Fortunately, Laguna had the same suspicion and inclination and so neither man knew for certain, which was how they both preferred it at the moment.

"I hear you're in a spot of bother?"

"Nothing we can't handle," replied the SeeD.

"Actually, it might be a little out of your league," said Laguna. "We're picking up frenzied G-Army transmissions, all of which are about your Garden."

"What are they going to do?" demanded Squall.

"Okay, don't panic now," said Laguna. "There was a bit of a situation with the Garden after you disappeared to…wherever it was you went."

_You wouldn't believe me if I told you,_ thought Squall, but simply nodded.

"The Garden got infested with these horrible little critters that seemed to come out of nowhere. They were on their way back from Trabia when they were hit, and they had to forcibly land the thing on Esthar soil. I helped out, naturally – I couldn't say no to Selphie and Zell after all us guys went through. Everyone got out with minor casualties – Zell and Selphie are fine – but we can't clear the structure of the little nasties."

"What do they look like?"

"I'll send you our collected information. We've got pictures, a couple of autopsies, that kind of thing. They just keep appearing as if from nowhere, and we couldn't find a nest. In the end we powered the Garden down and it's just sitting there, swarming with these critters."

Squall waved to Irvine. "Can you send this information down to Zidane? See if he recognises anything about them." Monsters appearing 'as if from nowhere' sounded suspiciously familiar to Squall. "Where are Zell and Selphie? At the Garden?"

"No," said Laguna. "They're here in the presidential suite, enjoying themselves on behalf of the Esthar taxpayer's money. I wanted to keep their whereabouts a secret, too. Just in case."

"Okay. Anything else?"

"Yes. The Galbadians have located the Garden. I don't know how, I kept it under wraps as best I could, but someone got wind of it and they're, long story short, gonna blow it up."

"Gee, this sounds familiar," commented Irvine.

"Hey Irvine," called Laguna, and the cowboy leaned back into view of the camera and waved.

"Isn't that like, exactly what they did last time?"

"Makes sense," murmured Squall. "I mean, all of their generals are dead, so they're probably using old operational files for guidelines and procedures."

"The bad news is, they've already launched the missiles," said Laguna. "The silver lining is that no one is left on board, so the only loss will be the structure itself."

"Well, that's something," said Squall, subdued. He had managed to prevent the destruction of the Garden last time, barely escaping the tactical missiles the Galbadians had launched. Now, exactly the same thing had happened, and he was powerless to stop it.

"Couldn't we find them and blow 'em up in the Ragnarok?" asked Irvine.

"No," said Squall. "They're armoured missiles, the bullets would bounce off and we'd be too close to use the laser. We'd be destroyed along with the first missile, and there are dozens more like it to carry on. Is there no way to power up the Garden in time?"

"No, unfortunately there's nothing I can do for the Garden," said Laguna. "It's too heavily infested with those creatures. But I can help you guys out."

"How?"

"When the missiles impact the Garden, the new Galbadian government failed to take one very important factor into consideration."

Squall's eyes widened. "That the Garden is in Esthar controlled territory."

"Exactly. Launching cruise missiles at my land could – and will – be construed as an act of war. Then once the formal declaration is out of the way, I can pronounce you protected by the state of Esthar, and you can ride out the storm within my borders."

"Nice!" exclaimed Irvine.

"I thought you'd approve," said Laguna. "How quickly can you get into Esthar airspace?"

Squall looked to Irvine for the estimate. He was frowning at the console.

"We used up most of our fuel reserves making it to Deling City in record time," he said. "I'm going to have to fly at a lower speed to make the rest of it last, because the only place we can fill this thing up is in Esthar, since they're meant to be illegal."

"Best guess?" said Squall.

"Maybe…maybe three hours."

Incredible that the same aircraft had flown across a quarter of a continent in less than fifteen minutes would take over three hours to get to Esthar, but there it was.

"Okay," frowned Laguna. "Those missiles are going to impact in less than an hour, so there'll be a couple of hours where you're open season for the G-Air Force. I can't offer you protection until those missiles hit. After that, all diplomatic considerations go out of the window."

Squall nodded. "We appreciate this, Laguna."

"No problem Squall. No problem at all. I'll contact you when the missiles hit. Oh, before I forget. Is it true you have a cargo hold full of Galbadian citizens?"

He didn't know what made him think of it, but a chain of thoughts went off like dominos toppling into each other inside Squall's brain. The citizens made him think of their escape, and the escape made him think of the strange words Cloud had spoken to him. The words made him consider Cloud's trance-like state, and that made him try to remember at any point in the past where he had felt a similar feeling. And that made him remember travelling in the SeeD carriage on the way to the G-Garden, and when he had lived Laguna's past through another set of eyes.

"Squall?"

"Yeah. Yes, that's true. Listen Laguna…have you heard from Ellone lately?"

Laguna blinked, unprepared for the question. "Well, yeah. She has been staying with me here in Esthar City, but she went out to meet the Garden survivors when we received the distress call. So she's close to the Garden – but don't worry, she won't be hurt by the strike."

"Thanks Laguna. I'll be in contact," said Squall, and Irvine killed the transmission.

He leapt to his feet. "I'll be in the rear of the ship for a while," he announced, and left the slightly bewildered Irvine to adjust fuel consumption charts.

Ellone…Squall had read somewhere once that if you eliminate the impossible, that whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. He was far from having a concrete suspicion about the situation, but certain factors fit the bill. If she was somehow manipulating Cloud it would account for his trance, and it seemed familiar, but the situation had reversed itself somehow. Instead of showing him the past, she was showing Cloud the future. That was not what Ellone did. She could show people what had already happened. But then again, she was responsible for the Time Compression, so who was Squall to say what she was and wasn't capable of? And why would Ellone turn Cloud into a sadistic, aggressive fighter, who had repeatedly attacked Squall? Something about the situation didn't add up.

As he walked past the holding area, Zidane called his name. Delaying his questions for Cloud, he walked back into the room where Tseng stood, imprisoned.

"What is it?"

"I know what these creatures are," said Tseng.

Zidane nodded in agreement. "They don't have a name, but they live in the Negative Zone. I've never seen them in another dimension; as far as we can tell, they live in the void and have never ventured out."

"You're sure?" asked the SeeD, and Tseng nodded.

"Absolutely."

"What's the Negative Zone?" asked Squall.

"According to Monkey Boy, it's the space between the dimensions, where nothing exists." said Reno. "Just the monsters, and the Path."

"It's where we used to travel between worlds," said Zidane. "Before portals started opening directly between the dimensions."

"Where were these creatures found?" asked Tseng.

"On board our home base, the Garden."

"Is this a stationary structure?"

"It is now, but as I understand it they started to appear while it was in transit. Why do you ask?"

"This is most irregular," muttered Tseng. "If these creatures were to appear in a moving structure, it would indicate that the portal they were travelling through was moving with the structure."

"Which isn't so strange in itself," input Zidane, "Because portals sometimes move around. But here, the portal has moved with the Garden, and then stopped when the Garden did. It's a strange coincidence, if it is a chance happening."

"And what are the odds of that?" asked Squall, nervous energy building inside of him.

"Slim to none," answered Tseng. Squall nodded, lost in deep thought. The weariness he had felt previously abated slightly, now that he had new mysteries to solve, and new problems to face.

"Is it possible to control these portals?"

"What do you mean?" asked Zidane.

"He means if it is possible for someone to navigate a portal along a set course, driving these creatures through it, in order to cripple the Garden. To answer the enquiry, I do not know enough about the portals to accurately say."

Squall snapped his fingers. "But I know a way you might figure it out," he said. "I'll be right back."

He marched with a purpose out of the holding area and towards the engineering section. When he arrived, he found Quistis staring sullenly at Cloud while he lay on his back, staring at the ceiling.

"Quistis," he almost gushed. She blinked at his enthusiasm.

"Yes?"

"Where is that Galbadian memory storage device?"

"It's right here," she said, puzzled.

During their mission to the underground G-bunker, they had acquired the database of the research facility. At the time they had hoped it would shed some light on what they now knew was materia, but now Squall wanted other information that he knew was bound to be stored on it – namely the research they had gathered on the portal they had travelled to Red's and Reno's world in.

"Take it to holding and plug it in. Allow Tseng access from inside his cell – wheel a portable display unit inside while Reno holds him at gunpoint. Tell him how we acquired it, and work with him and Zidane to figure out what you can about the portals. Between you, you should be able to figure what the hell is going on around here."

She nodded, and then paused on her way outside. "I'm glad you're back," she said.

"I know what you mean. Me, too," he said. She hurried along the corridor.

"Cloud," he said. The man blinked out of his daydream and rolled to regard Squall. "When you said you remember seeing everything, do you recall seeing a short girl? She has brown hair, and she wears a green and blue dress, and her name is -- "

" -- Ellone," both men said at the same time.

"Yes, I remember that," said Cloud.

"Come with me," said Squall, and led him towards the cockpit. His purpose flared back to life inside of him, and for the first time he felt like this situation was beatable. He could win, and succeed, despite facing an unbelievable situation they had previously known nothing about.

He entered the cockpit, and indicated that Cloud take a seat. He walked to where Irvine sat at the controls.

"We're altering course slightly," said Squall.

"Oh?"

"Take us to the Garden. We're going to get Ellone."

Squall sighed and smiled to himself contentedly as the engines flared to life, changing the direction they were travelling in.

What a difference an hour can make.


	37. We Belong

**Author's Note:**

Since the question came up, I'll answer it again. Final Trinity does not contain Advent Children or Dirge of Cerberus continuity. So, forget any events that happened in either. This takes from FF7 only, and none of its sequels.

**Previously, on Final Trinity...**

**Siegfried** and his gang tracked down **Kain Highwind's** group, only to discover an ambush. **Rufus, **under the guise of betraying Kain, attempted a parley with Siegfried, while a strike force attacked from cover of shadows. Just when victory seemed within grasp, **Seymour** betrayed Siegfried, killing him, but not before he summoned the mysterious **Ajuk** to the field, who was revealed to be none other than **Kuja**. To make matters worse, **Kefka** also appeared, ready to destroy anyone that might interfere with whatever mad plans he has for **Shadow **and **Cyan**.

Chapter Thirty Seven

We Belong

"I can't stop the bleeding!" a female voice cried.

"Get this ship started, or I'll kill you myself!"

"You're lucky I was smart enough to figure out how to turn it on," a cold voice replied. "And, even more luckily, I have some small experience with flying myself, and these controls aren't _too_ different from what--"

"Don't care. Just get us the fuck out of here."

Kain just shook his head. All around him, his companions scurried and moved every which way, all of them in a panic as a titanic magical battle went on down below. And next to him, on the ground, one of his party – one of the people he was responsible for – was dying. It was all his fault. It always seemed to end up that way.

How could things have gone so wrong?

* * *

"_Everyone, take cover!"_

_Kain's words, while wise, were entirely unneeded. Everyone in his ragtag group were already scattering, desperately attempting to get out of the space between the three enemy mages. Kain took to the skies, jumping above the clash, while others found their own way of escape. Amarant, his long legs pumping, easily began to distance himself from the threat zone, but not before surprisingly picking up Cyan with one large arm, and Yuna with the other. Shadow had seemed to disappear entirely, while Vincent appeared to be gliding, nearly floating, his cape out-stretched and seeming to pick up the wind to carry him to safety. Even as magical energy was released from all three sides, Fujin was the only one left in the blast radius. A blue energy surrounded her suddenly, a Shell being cast to protect her at the last moment. Even so, it proved flimsy protection at best as all three sides of magical energy connected. The girl, even spelled as she was, was hurled from the explosive energies, and fell safely to the ground._

_Kain impacted on the sand, and readied his spear, turning to face the three sorcerous opponents, but all three were too focused on each other. Fire balls and bolts of lightning fell from the heavens. Storms of ice and acid rained down, and green and purple energies flared to life. Protective spells were thrown up, and quickly battered down, only to be replaced once more. _

"_Where's Rufus?" Cyan cried. _

"_Chicken ran into the airship," Amarant replied._

_Shadow seemingly materialized from the darkness, shielding his face from the brilliant light and force of the magical battle. "Do we have a plan?"_

_Kain could only watch in mute numbness, though, as the battle raged on. Seymour and Kuja seemed impressive, masters of their trade. They hurled spears of ice and lances of lightning at each other, and pillars of fire erupted from the ground, lava bubbling from the ground underneath. But Kefka was in another league entirely. He negligently froze the earth to prevent the liquid fire from coming anywhere near him, and with a simple gesture created whirlwinds to carry the icy shards away. While Kuja and Seymour were putting forth serious effort into their chaotic maelstroms, Kefka was almost bored, throwing about half measures to counter them. _

_In the space of seconds, the battle went from three mages battling each other to two enemies harnessing their power and throwing it directly at Kefka._

"_Do we run, too?" Amarant asked._

_Kain looked to the airship. There was a clear path between them and it. None of the combatants were paying attention to them. They could slip away, escape... _

_But he saw Fujin, knocked senseless, but in relative safety, on the other side of the battle. To get to her, they'd have to go through that horrible battle._

_What would Cecil do?_

"_We fight," Kain growled._

"_Godamn was I hopin' you were gonna say that," Amarant said._

* * *

"We're off the ground!" someone called.

Relief washed through Kain, but he couldn't seem to focus on anything. Blood was running freely down from his scalp, into his eyes. It looked worse than it was, but the blood was everywhere down his face. He could barely see because of it. But he knew. He wasn't half the leader that Cecil was. Wasn't even half the man. This never would have happened if Cecil had been there, in charge. For a brief moment, Kain had thought he was in charge, that he had the right idea of what to do. Oh, how wrong he'd been.

A hand grasped his, and he looked down. His eyes were misty, and he couldn't make out the form of the person who was holding his hand, but he knew who it was. The slickness of the blood, the angle it came from. It could only be one person.

"It's my fault," Kain said, guiltily.

"No," the person rasped. "Not ... yours. Kefka's. Mine."

"Listen, Yuna's working her magic to get you better..."

He looked up and saw through the stinging haze Yuna shaking her head. There was no hope. No one survived a beating that bad and lived to tell the tale.

"Dying?"

"Yes," Kain said. "I'm sorry."

"It's... okay. Expected."

"We usually do."

* * *

"_I have an idea," Kain said._

_As he did, another fireball was launched from Kefka's direction, wildly above their heads. It was no real threat. What Kefka had in sheer power he made up for in lack of patience and random acts of destruction. _

"_Is it a 'good' idea?" Shadow said._

_Kain frowned, and turned to Amarant. "Kefka's spells are really powerful. If you get hit by one, and do that 'Return Magic' technique of yours, do you think you could breach his defenses?"_

_Amarant snorted, then responded, "Let me show you why that's a _bad_ idea."_

_Ducking down, Amarant crawled away into the darkness, coming back a moment later holding the limp form of Ultros by one tentacle. Abruptly the mercenary stood up, swung the octopus around a few times, and then let go, launching the purple form through the air. It sailed true, flying directly at Kefka, until the mad mage lifted a hand._

_A beam of white light shot forth, hitting the octopus and instantly incinerating him. When the light disappeared, there was nothing left of Ultros. Not even ashes._

"_The Light of Judgement!" Cyan cried._

"_See now why 'me getting hit by one of his spells' is a _bad_ idea?"_

"_I see your point," Kain conceded. _

"_Over there!" Shadow suddenly called, and Kain turned his head to see._

_Elsewhere, in the darkness, but illuminated by random bolts of energy flying nearby, were the forms of Raijin, Lani and Lucrecia, attempting to flee the battle. Kain and his company weren't the only ones to notice them._

"_Just what I need!" Seymour exclaimed._

_Gunfire sounded from Yuna as she turned and aimed at the blue-haired sorcerer, but he negligently waved a hand, a force field of pure power coming between himself and the deadly projectiles. _

"_We have to stop him!" Yuna shouted._

_Everyone about Kain looked to him for action, and he hesitated. Seymour was dangerous, but Kefka was clearly the more dangerous of them. They had to deal with him first. But Yuna's look of determination, her will through her eyes bled through, demanding that he listen._

"_Everyone on Seymour!" Kain said._

_But it was too late._

_Seymour, looking intently at his former comrades, lifted a wand with one hand, the object blazing with energy. Twisted green and black waves poured from it, enveloping the group. _

_Kain charged ahead, his allies flanking him. He readied his spear, and launched himself upwards, flying through the air and over the shield that Seymour had erected. Dimly, he noted that one of the shapes fall to Seymour's attack, only to be replaced by colourful lights that moved towards the blue-haired mage. _

"_LUCRECIA!" Vincent shouted. All sanity had fled his voice. _

_Gravity kicked in, and Kain descended downwards, his spear at the perfect striking angle. He was too late to save Lucrecia from whatever it was Seymour had done, but he could save the others. He could do it..._

_Raijin's form fell just as quickly, dispersing into colourful lights just as Lucrecia had. Those, too, began to head towards Seymour. _

_They never made it to their target._

_Kain crashed into the sorcerer, his spear stabbing deeply into his shoulder. The man gave a cry of agony as he fell, Kain on top of him. Withdrawing the spear, the Dragoon plunged it into the man's abdomen as he stood. It went in shallowly, but enough to do damage. Pulling it forth again, he made as if to stab once more, but Seymour managed to bring forth enough strength, and sent a lightning bolt his opponent. Kain took the hit full in the chest, the blazing energy sending him hurtling back, the pain racing along his veins. He hit the ground hard, and his helmet shoved violently into his scalp. Every instinct cried for him to move. Every bodily impulse wanted him to vomit from the agony. And every muscle failed to do either as he lay helpless, unable to move._

_Seymour, bleeding from his wounds, but reforming and healing, stood up, a condescending sneer on his face._

"_You _dare_."_

_Lifting his wand once more, the waves of black energy surged forward, heading for Kain this time. He couldn't even brace himself._

_And then a snarling, winged beast was there, all sharp teeth and black talons and red, leathery wings. It slammed into Seymour with unparalleled ferocity, tearing and raking, blood flying about in every which direction. The man shrieked in agony, but that only seemed to incense the beast as it tore into him with increasing viciousness._

_And then Yuna was at his side, and Kain let out a gasp as healing energy surged through him. It was weak, but it revitalized his muscles, made him able to move once more. Blood began to drip from his scalp, but he ignored it, and the pain that went with it. _

"_He broke them down to their spirit energy," Yuna said. "He was going to absorb them to become more powerful. I've seen it before."_

"_What is--?"_

"_Vincent," Yuna said. "He... turned into that when the woman fell."_

_Kain nodded, stunned, remembering Vincent mentioning Chaos before. He'd expected something... different. Certainly not a beast from the Underworld itself. _

_Elsewhere, Kain heard Shadow yell, ordering everyone to regroup and focus on Kefka with Seymour down. Kain tried to stand, but Yuna pushed him down. _

"_You're lucky to be alive," she said. "Stay here. We'll handle it."_

_And then Shadow was there, pulling at Kain's shoulders, trying to get him up._

"_Leave him," Yuna said. "He's too weak--"_

"_Kain put me in charge in the event that he's too weak to command," Shadow hissed. "Is that right, Kain?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Perfect. Then, as leader, I'm ordering you to get up and fight!"_

_He was suddenly heaved to his feet, and even in the urgency of the situation, he nearly fell back down. That hit from Seymour had nearly killed him. The head injury didn't help much either. He couldn't focus properly on his surroundings, but he saw that Amarant was busy throwing pinwheels at Kefka, all of which were being ignored, while Cyan was picking up the inert form of Fujin. Kefka and Kuja were going at each other even harder than before, and the shimmering lights – the spirit energy of Raijin and Lucrecia – were hovering in the air, slowly drifting towards--_

_One of Kuja's hands shot out, and a beam of force surrounded the lights. They were pulled to him, floating debris in a maelstrom of power, pulled inexorably towards the feminine sorcerer. And then they touched, and everything changed._

_Red and pink energy surged through Kuja, and waves of force poured from him. Chaos was flung from Seymour, and Kain had to brace himself against the sudden onrush of power. Somewhere, Kuja was laughing. Elsewhere, he heard someone – Amarant – yell, "He's Trancing!"_

* * *

Kain shook his head at the memory. He hadn't even been entirely sure what had been happening then. Wasn't even sure what had happened now, even after he'd gained precious minutes to think about it. Outside, the battle still raged. But it didn't matter.

He looked down to his fallen companion, precious seconds from death. Yuna was still trying her best, bless her. But it wasn't enough. It'd never be enough. Her magic was just too weak in this world. It would only properly work in her own.

"You weren't even supposed to be here," Kain muttered bitterly.

It was his fault. He couldn't even blame Golbez for this. This was his fault, and no one else's. He wanted to scream, to shout his sorrow and anger at the heavens. Cecil never would have allowed this to happen. But then, Cecil was perfect. The best at everything. He'd have found a way to win the fight down below without having to run. That was just the kind of man he was.

"Yes, I was," came his voice, half-choked on blood. "Nowhere else to go. No other... cause to fight... Meant to be here. All of us."

"He's right," Yuna said. "I... I'm not supposed to be here. I'm supposed to... I'm supposed to be married, with Tidus, but... he's dead now, and I'm looking for Sephiroth, and you're tracking him, too. I'm not supposed to be here. None of us are. But we belong here."

Kain shook his head in disbelief. None if it made sense. She, most of all, didn't belong with them, and here she was... But she had a wisdom in her eyes, a resolve. A strength that few he knew possessed.

* * *

_Kuja, glowing red, with feathers all about his person, lifted one hand, as if bored, and brilliant pink energy erupted from it. Kefka raised a shield just in time, blocking the energy, but for all his mad power, he was left staggered for a second, before he returned with his own attack, an energy that was sickly green, mixed with red heat all in one. Kuja in turn was forced to block the attack, and appeared no less taken aback. _

_From the quick exchange, Kain figured the two had to be now equal in terms of power. By absorbing the souls of others, Kuja's power had somehow sky-rocketed. __They were both now weapons that could more than likely both bring about an end to the world that they fought in. _

"_That was mine!" Seymour's voice screamed._

_Kain whirled about to see the blue-haired Sorcerer, bloodied and dishevelled, standing defiantly. In one hand, he held Chaos by the throat, in the other, his wand blazed with black and silver energy. Almost negligently, he threw Chaos to the side, and raised his other hand to clasp his weapon, drawing forth even more power into it. _

_As one, both Kefka and Kuja struck at Seymour._

_He never stood a chance._

_His form was ripped to pieces by energies even his sorcerous abilities couldn't hope to understand, much less imitate. His body was torn to pieces, and glowing motes of energy – what Yuna had previously described as pyreflies – filled his place. But even as they moved to retreat, Kuja unleashed attack after attack, decimating the bits of energy, destroying each in turn, preventing them from reforming into Seymour again. _

_Elsewhere, Cyan had Fujin slung across his shoulder, and was hurrying her to the airship. Kefka turned to him, a sadistic smile on his face._

"_Where do you think you're going, my dear knight?"_

_Kain heard a roar of anger, and was shaken by the vehemence of it, until he realized it came from his own lips. It was pure reaction driving him now, the instinct to protect. He knew Kefka would kill Cyan. He wouldn't fail this time._

_Again he was in the air, his mighty Dragoon leap taking him to the sky. There was no slowing of time as the moment descended. There was only Kain, Kefka, and his spear. The weapon sank into Kefka's shoulder, but the madman didn't seem to notice. He merely made a backhanding motion that didn't even connect with Kain, but the magic behind it did. Invisible force slammed into the Dragoon, sending him sailing away, landing not too far from the platform to the airship._

"_You have something of mine!" Kefka screeched. "Give it to me!"_

_Shadow's shuriken whizzed through the air, followed by a hail of bullets from Yuna's pistols. All were intercepted by an invisible wall of magical will. From the darkness, Amarant leaped, landing on Kefka's back, encircling the mad mage with his arms. Clawed weapons raked into Kefka's chest, but no reaction came from him. His insane eyes watched Cyan with unblinking rapture, and the samurai, in turn, was paralyzed, whether by fear or magical energy, was uncertain._

_A sudden concussion to the air forced Amarant flying backwards and away, sending the large monk sprawling to the ground. _

_And then Kuja was there, slamming wave after wave of pink energy into Kefka's shields. But the madman seemed not even to notice this new wave of attack. In fact, it seemed that each one Kuja sent was weaker than the last, impacting with less force. _

_The bright light from Kuja faded; the feathers receded. He was back to his old self. That form, whatever it was, that 'Trance', clearly had not lasted. _

_But it'd done one thing. It had managed to divert Kefka's attention._

_A whirlwind of black and green and yellow and white energies flashed forward, all heading at Kuja. The villain gasped, and made a gesture. Blue light surrounded him, and he suddenly disappeared, the space where he had stood now empty of his presence before the attack managed to strike him down. He appeared not twenty feet from where he'd been, but that proved safe enough distance. Instead of being nearly obliterated where he'd stood, he was merely sent sailing backwards from the force of the attack._

_And then Chaos was there, slashing into Kefka, claws raking him, teeth sinking into him. Blood flowed from the mad clown's throat, from his arms, from the shoulder where Kain had stabbed him, and from his chest where Amarant had raked him. _

_This time, the attack was not simply treated with a punitive gestured. The sound of bones snapping and crackling filled the air as Chaos was plucked from Kefka's back with an unseen hand. The demon's wings suddenly shredded, and tore off, and a crunching sounded. Chaos was tossed aside, the demonic form slamming against the Invincible's hull. _

_Kain stood up slowly, most of his strength gone. But he could do one thing. He moved to Chaos – no, he was already changing back into Vincent – and picked him up, and stumbled to the safety of the ship. _

_Kefka's attention was no longer on Cyan. Forgotten in his lust for battle, Kefka now threw barrage after barrage at Kuja. Every one of Kain's companions chose the smartest tactic. They all fled to the ship._

* * *

"We're in the air!" Rufus shouted triumphantly.

"How'd you come up with a power source?" Shadow hissed.

Smugly, Rufus responded, "While none of you fools were watching, I lifted the Black Materia. I found a receptacle in the engine room that appeared to be designed to hold--"

"Whatever," Amarant muttered. "Long as we get the fuck outta here."

"Is she... is she safe?" Vincent gasped.

Kain could see it in his eyes. In those red eyes, Vincent was barely clinging on to life, much less reason. Or maybe he had it, and just needed to be told something else.

"Yes," Kain lied. "She's alive. You managed to save Lucrecia."

Vincent smiled weakly. "Not her. She's dead. I saw it. Fujin... did we save her?"

Kain blinked, and looked over to where she lay, just feet away. She was bloodied, and suffered from multiple broken bones, but with some proper rest and curative magic, she'd be fine.

"She's alive. And will be, because of us. Because of you."

"Maybe... Maybe now I can... sleep without the nightmares... maybe... I have atoned..."

Kain watched Vincent Valentine breathe his last breath, a ragged, rasping sound. The light faded from his eyes; the red disappeared entirely. What was left were normal, brown ones. His head slumped to the side, all strength finally gone. The former Turk had fought well. His own demon, Chaos, had saved them all. His own pure hell had been their salvation.

Shrugging off the dizziness, Kain stood abruptly. He focused himself on Amarant. "You're the most familiar with this airship. Does it have any weapons?"

"A big cannon that could wipe out a city," he answered. "Why do you ask?"

"I want it fired down on Kefka," Kain growled. "I want that entire patch of desert to be hit with a weapon so hot, all the sand turns to glass. Can you do it?"

"Never used it before," Amarant admitted.

"I don't care. Can you do it!"

"Yeah... yeah, I think I can. Give me a minute. But we do this... we do this, and we might not have power to fly the ship. We do this, and we kill Lani, and whoever else is still down there."

Kain turned to face his companion, murder in his eyes. He was surprised at how level his voice was. "They made their bed. They can die in it."

A grunt, and then, "Some hero you are."

"I never pretended to be anything else."

* * *

Author's Note:

Yep. I did it. I killed a character. And I apparently waited ONE CHAPTER TOO LONG, because **Count D'Ainiac** so called it. Blast you!! We had this planned for a while, too. I'm hoping we caught SOME of you by surprise. And I hope I didn't piss too many people off by doing it.

This chapter took ages to write. I apologize for that. There were reasons for it, but I'm not going to bore you with excuses. Next one should be up in a week (maybe two, tops).

Anyway, thank you to **Melan Blue**, **Ffmaester, Alpha2Omega, Setra Kakan, Count D'Ainiac **(Boo at you predicting my actions!), **Yuleen75, mycrazylife, Macky, **and **Brutal2003. **You guys make writing this story rewarding.


	38. Tinker, Sniper, Soldier, Guardian

**Previously in Final Trinity...**

**Squall** and the others on his team have escaped the destruction of the **Lunar Cry** to discover they are wanted fugitives of the **Galbadian government**. **President Laguna Loire** of **Esthar **has agreed to grant them asylum by declaring war on the Galbadians after their military ordered a missile attack on **Balamb Garden,** which was in Esthar controlled territory at the time.

Parallel to seeking sanctuary, Squall's concerns rest also with **Ellone**, mysterious girl capable of manipulating time, and determining her connection with the enigmatic **Cloud Strife**.

* * *

"How long til we get there?" asked Cloud.

"Within half an hour," said Irvine.

Squall said nothing. Laguna had just sent a follow up transmission with a live video feed attached to it. He stood watching as the missiles impacted the Garden, and annihilated the structure completely. When the smoke had cleared, only the vague hulk of the Garden was left. Irvine was watching, not ashamed of the unshed tears brimming in his eyes. Balamb Garden had become as much of a home to him as it was to the others in the time since he had shifted allegiance, and Squall could certainly sympathise, watching his home be destroyed in front of his eyes.

"Turn it off," he said. Irvine watched for a few more seconds, and then flicked the switch that cut off the video feed.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, Squall," said Laguna.

"Yeah…" said Squall. "So am I."

Chapter Thirty Eight

Tinker, Sniper, Soldier, Guardian

The Ragnarok fell gracefully from the sky, landing struts extended, and hit the ground almost gently. Only a minor tremor warned the people inside that they had, in fact, touched down.

The rear cargo door slid open, and the crowds of Galbadian citizens rushed out, free into the fresh air from the confined metal prison. Several checked the sky above them, just to make sure it was still blue, and wasn't getting any closer.

Squall watched them leave, partially glad to be free of the responsibility, although, a more selfish part of him reasoned, the Galbadians now had no reason to hold their fire in an encounter.

As the citizens ran into the waiting arms of the Esthar soldiers waiting outside, Squall turned to talk to the man standing beside him. "Have they made any progress?"

"Yeah," said Reno, waving to a few attractive ladies as they disembarked. "Tseng said he wants to speak to you."

"Alright then," said Squall, turning to leave. Reno grabbed his arm as he did so.

"Don't trust him," he said. Squall looked at him quizzically. "I think Zidane is on the level, especially after the beating he got, but don't trust Tseng. Not until we know more about what he wants. The man always has an agenda, and as long as you figure it out – and he isn't lying to you – then you can trust him."

Squall nodded, and headed into the ship.

Quistis was keeping an eye on the former Guardians, both of whom had sheets of scientific readouts and sensor readings they had garnered from the Galbadian storage device.

"Have you made any progress?" Squall asked as he entered the room.

"Yes," replied Tseng. "Which is very encouraging. We haven't figured out how someone would navigate a portal yet, however I have learned a considerable amount in the physical make-up of a portal. They mostly remain dormant until a Guardian activates it, one of the skills, as well as the change in our physical abilities, Golbez bestows upon his chosen warriors."

"So you can open portals?" asked Squall.

"Not anymore. However, given time, I think I will be able to produce an effect that can either activate an existing portal, or create a new one entirely."

"Isn't that disrupting the natural order of things?" asked Quistis, unconsciously echoing Tseng's words.

"Yes, quite immensely. However, since Golbez no longer requires my services, I may as well put them to some use. And besides, the nature of the portals has always fascinated me. It will be interesting to see if I can manage to experiment with them."

"Alright then, keep me apprised," said Squall, leaving the room.

"Where are you going?" asked Quistis.

"To meet an old friend."

As Squall left the room, Quistis turned back to face the two former Dimensional Guardians and observed them work. She had no idea whether or not it was wise to trust either of them, but considering the condition they had retrieved Zidane from Timber in, it would have to be a very convincing ruse for the man and the boy to be collaborating. Additionally, there had been several occasions where Zidane could have easily dispatched all of them covertly; he had proven himself to be quite adept in the arts of stealth. As for Tseng…well, if Zidane was trustworthy – just – and he trusted Tseng, the man who tried to kill him, then maybe that was enough for the SeeDs on the Ragnarok. Trust by extension, as it were.

Quistis blinked and realised she had phased out of the room, lost in her own thoughts. Zidane and Tseng were looking at her expectantly.

"Sorry, I was miles away," she said. "What was that?"

"We were just discussing what we already know about portals," said Zidane. "See if we've missed something along the way."

"They're just tears in reality, aren't they?" asked Quistis. "A rip in the fabric separating the universes?"

"Essentially, yes," replied Tseng, but Zidane was troubled by Quistis' explanation.

"Is that exactly right, though?" he pondered. "With the number of portals, that explanation is wrong. Or at least, not entirely accurate. If it was a tear, you'd expect one big portal, when there are lots of tiny little portals."

"So? What do you suggest?"

"It's almost as if…" the boy was struggling with the thought. "Almost as if someone is making holes in the fabric, rather than there being a tear."

"So you're saying the portals are a creation of someone?" said Tseng. "Who would be capable of such a thing?"

"I'm not sure. But the holes aren't very big, because now only us Guardians can use them. Maybe they'll carry on getting bigger, and then regular people can use them."

"But that would cause chaos, wouldn't it?" said Quistis.

"Uncontrollably so," said Tseng. "The barriers between the dimensions are there for a reason. If the portals continue to grow bigger as Zidane suggests, then all natural boundaries will disappear. Everything will exist at once."

"Sort of like…Spatial Compression?" asked Quistis.

Tseng thought about it, and then nodded. "A very apt term. Yes, that would be exactly right."

"Then this may be similar to a situation we SeeD have already faced. We battled against a powerful Sorceress from the future who wanted to compress time, so that all time would exist at once. Perhaps a powerful entity in another dimension is trying to break down the barriers between the worlds for a similar purpose."

"It's possible," said Zidane. "But I can't think of anyone powerful enough to be breaking apart the physical barriers of the world."

"Maybe it's someone we haven't encountered yet?" asked Quistis. They fell silent as the disturbing thought sunk in.

* * *

"Squall!" exclaimed Ellone, running to embrace Squall. He lifted her into his arms and swung her around.

"Sis!" he gasped breathlessly. She giggled.

"I'm not that heavy, am I Squall?"

"Of course not," he said, setting her onto the ground. "How've you been?"

"Very well thank you. And you?"

"I've had better days," he replied. "Which is what I came to talk to you about."

"I know," she said gravely. "But first, there's something going on onboard the Ragnarok that you have to deal with."

* * *

Cloud wandered along the engineering passageways lost in thought. When he and Squall had said the name of the girl he kept seeing in his visions at the same time, he, at first, thought it was some kind of twisted coincidence. But the more he thought about it, the more confused he got. Was it coincidence? Was this girl responsible for his psychotic episodes? Memory loss? He just didn't know, but Squall had taken them to the military facility where this Ellone was currently occupying. She was a very important person in this dimension, and to Squall personally. He didn't think she looked evil, but he only had flashes of her in his mind.

A niggling pain itched at his temples, and he brushed at it, trying to make it go away.

He tried to return to his train of thought when the niggle became a full-blown nuclear explosion of pain. He cried out and sank to the ground. He grit his teeth and set himself against the pain, but it was too much. He lapsed into unconsciousness.

* * *

"How long has he been like this?"

The doctors from the military station were wheeling Cloud into the facility to deal with his medical problem better than they could handle on the Ragnarok.

Avira, who had been the one to find Cloud, shook her head. "I'm not sure. Maybe ten to fifteen minutes?"

"Was he conscious when you found him?" She shook her head negative.

"Thank you, miss. You'd better wait outside."

They took him into an isolation unit, complete with armed guards and observation platform, based on Squall's suggestion they keep him under lock and key. The doctors had assured him the glass overlooking the unit was unbreakable, and the doors accessing the unit impenetrable.

They slowed to a halt before the doors the doctors had taken Cloud. Squall, Avira, Ellone and Irvine exchanged concerned glances. They hoped Cloud wasn't going ballistic again.

Later, they sat in the observation room looking down onto Cloud. He lay on a bed surrounded by bleeping monitors, which informed the onlookers he had lapsed into some kind of coma.

Irvine had put his feet up on the chair in front of his, laid his hat across his eyes, and promptly fallen asleep. Squall and Ellone had been talking ever since.

"…So what happened then?"

"We had to leave the citizens behind. We had some on board already, obviously…but everyone's quite shaken up about it. It wasn't very pleasant."

"It sounds horrible," said Ellone, rubbing Squall's shoulder. He looked down for a few moments, and then met her eyes.

"Ellone…?"

"Yes?"

"Do you know anything about Cloud?"

She remained silent for a few moments.

"Ellone?"

"It's Sephiroth," said Avira. Squall turned to regard her sharply.

"What?"

"He's here, in this dimension. I can feel him. I've never been able to sense another person's Jenova before…but I can sense his. He's the reason this is happening to Cloud."

"What's he doing to him?" asked Squall.

"He's trying to kill him," said Avira.

* * *

Locke and Quistis stood just inside the entrance to the medical lab where Cloud was being kept. They were inside the room with him, watching as the doctors and nurses hurriedly worked away at him.

"Shouldn't you be with Tseng and Zidane?" asked Locke.

"Reno is keeping an eye on them. Besides, I could use the break," she said.

"Are you making much progress?"

"Yes. Tseng thinks he might be able to create a portal despite having his abilities as a Guardian revoked." She cast him a knowing eye. "So there's hope we'll be able to get you home."

Locke blushed slightly at being slightly transparent, but he figured if he never asked then he'd never get.

"So how do you think we can make the portal?"

She glanced at him again. "We?"

He shrugged. "Well, we're in this together, right? I don't really have a choice at the moment, except to work with and trust you people."

Quistis nodded. "It would appear that you're in quite a difficult situation."

"You can say that again."

"It would appear…" Quistis started, and then smirked at Locke sideways. He returned the grin.

"So who was the man on the train?"

She immediately regretted asking the question. Never in her life had she experienced the mood of a conversation killed so quickly. The smile dropped from his face.

"His name is Kefka. He was responsible for a lot of bad things. Me and my friends thought we had killed him a few years back, but apparently we didn't do as good a job as we'd thought."

"Could we negotiate with him?"

Locke shook his head immediately. "Kefka has a twisted sense of morals and ethics. You wouldn't like to negotiate with him."

"Had he changed much?"

"Yes. He wasn't as powerful as he used to be. He had harnessed the power of three Goddess Statues in my world, but they were broken. Maybe someone…I don't know, put them back together, and that revived him. He said that he would break me apart and take back from me what I had taken from him."

"Did he mean break you in combat?"

"Actually, I think he meant more like rip me apart limb from limb. He implied whatever it was was inside me."

Quistis grimaced. "He sounds like a thoroughly disreputable fellow."

"Now that's an understatement if I've ever heard one."

Beyond them, Cloud stirred on the bed slightly in his coma.

"What do you think his deal is?" asked Locke, indicating the comatose man with a jerked thumb.

Quistis shook her head. "I have no idea. But I'm afraid before long we'll know all too well."

* * *

"When's Quistis going to be back?" Reno asked. He was tired of playing babysitter to these two former Guardians. He didn't care if Cloud had collapsed, she didn't need to be there with him. He _had_ tortured her, after all.

"I'm not sure," replied Tseng. He was having trouble figuring Tseng out. Zidane he believed was at least partially genuine, however the second the others had left the holding area he had dumped the monkey-tailed youth into the cell adjacent to Tseng's. He didn't think he was evil, but he didn't exactly trust him either.

"Being locked in these cells is hampering our work significantly, however."

Reno sighed. "Look, I activated the little window thing so you can see what each other are doing. I'm not letting you out after you tried to kill me."

"I don't expect you to," said Tseng.

"Then why did you even mention anything?" flared Reno. He was still very uncomfortable with being in the position of guarding someone he considered a lot more capable than himself. What if he escaped? Reno probably wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

But Tseng just shrugged, and returned to his work. He and the Monkey Boy were tapping away at their instruments like they had a purpose, which he supposed was good, but he was just so _bored._

Unable to take it anymore, he jumped to his feet. "Tell me about what you're doing."

Unsurprised, Tseng levelled his cool gaze at Reno. "I definitely see you haven't changed much," he said.

"Just…tell me, okay?" asked Reno.

Zidane nodded. "We're trying to figure out how to open a portal without our Guardian abilities."

"And?"

"Well, that's about all we've got so far," the youth admitted.

"We know what a portal looks like, and how we used to make one open. But finding the right catalyst is proving difficult," added Tseng

"So the problem is you're trying to open a portal. Wouldn't it just be easier to make a new one?"

Tseng and Zidane exchanged a significant glance through their shared observation window. Reno sighed.

"You could just say if it's a bad idea, 'stead of treating me like an idiot," he complained.

"Actually, it might be the best idea you've ever had," said Tseng. "And I'm familiar with a lot of your ideas."

Zidane raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Are they normally good?"

Tseng scoffed. "No, normally terrible. That's why I'm so surprised."

"Hey! Get back to work on it then!" suggested Reno, offended. But Tseng and Zidane started working with a renewed vigour.

* * *

"Ellone, will you just tell me what's going on?" demanded Squall, getting slightly impatient.

Ellone sighed. "I can't believe it's time already…" she whispered, and then straightened her shoulders. "It's Ultimecia," she said.

Squall looked shocked, and then started to shake his head. "No…no. No, we defeated her. No. That can't be true."

"It is true," she said. "I can explain, but you're going to have to wrap your mind around some pretty complicated issues very quickly, because there isn't much time."

"Okay," said Squall.

"Do you remember Time Compression?" she began. Squall nodded. How could he forget? "Ultimecia's master plan was to compress time, so that all of time existed as one. Right? And the only way we could reach her to defeat her was to compress time, so we could meet her physically."

"Yeah, I remember all of that."

"Do you recall how it felt?"

Squall paused, trying to put the sensations into words. "It felt like…being everywhere at once. But…also like everything was inside you, all at the same time. Like being stretched thin and filled up."

"Yes. Exactly. Now…do you remember how Ultimecia took control over Edea?"

"I remember."

"She's doing the same thing with Cloud. He has been controlled in a similar way in the past, and so is very susceptible to her influence."

"But I thought Ultimecia only took control of other Sorceresses?"

"She did, but now it's different. Back then she only wanted to achieve Time Compression. Now she wants Spatial Compression, too."

"What's that?" Squall asked, confused.

"Ask Quistis when you see her next, she'll be able to explain it to you."

"But…how can Ultimecia be controlling Cloud? We killed her."

"This is the complicated part," warned Ellone, and Squall nodded for her to proceed.

"Imagine time as a piece of string," she started. "Now, imagine that we, now, are at a point halfway along the piece of string. Ultimecia in the future is towards the end of the piece of string. And when you first started down this path, you were at the start of the string. Are you with me so far?

"Time Compression took the piece of string, and rolled it into a ball. Every point of the string arrived at the same place, and existed at the same time. Time Compression removed the fourth dimension of time. It no longer existed."

"Okay," said Squall, struggling with the concept.

"Now, at that point where all of the string was together, you and your friends went and killed Ultimecia. She died. That happened, you were very impressive."

"Thank you."

"_But,_ then we rolled the string back to the way it was before. Time continued as normal. Do you remember just before Time Compression ended, after you killed Ultimecia?"

"I…I wandered through a desert," Squall said. "I couldn't find anyone that I loved, but then Rinoa came for me, after I collapsed."

"How long did it feel like?"

"An eternity," Squall answered instantly.

"That's because it _was_ an eternity. But at the same time, it was less than a nanosecond. Because time didn't exist there. When you wandered that desert, you were succumbing to your inner fears, because it wasn't a physical place. Your mind took precedence there, and so you were living out your worst fear."

"I think I understand that."

"Now, there are two people used to dealing with time. Me, because I created the Time Compression, and Ultimecia, because she was used to dealing across time. While you were wandering through the desert of your mind, Ultimecia was busy scheming, and I was busy stopping her."

"So you're saying Ultimecia was taking control of Cloud's body…_after_ we killed her?"

"You're forgetting that time doesn't exist when the string is rolled into a ball. You killed Ultimecia, yes, but that's just your perspective of events, trying to put things in a natural, logical order because you can't perceive Time Compression for what it really is. If you were to wander the desert and _then_ kill Ultimecia, then that would make as much sense as they way you look at things now."

"Squall, it's easy," said Irvine, shifting his hat from his eyes, clearly not as asleep as he first appeared. "Ultimecia exists at every point in time because of the Time Compression. Right?"

"Right. Although she doesn't physically exist until her time, way down at the end of the string, she can cast her mind and control events from within Time Compression."

"And so can you?"

"Yes. Me and Ultimecia are locked in an eternal – or split-second – battle from inside that sphere of non-time. Anti-time. Whatever you want to call it, but that's where we are."

"Alright," said Squall slowly. "I think I understand."

"Good," said Ellone.

"So you've seen the entire stretch of time from within Time Compression?"

"Within reason. Despite our ability to control events, we're still mortals. We can only process information according to the limits of our minds and intelligence. We're still human. And by a similar token, everything we do has to be translated back from Anti-Time to normal time. We both have to try and keep these dual concepts in our minds. We can get distracted easily. Think of the situation as a dichotomy."

"A whatomy?" asked Irvine, his face screwing up tighter in confusion.

Ellone smiled slightly upon seeing the sniper's face. "A dichotomy is the whole two equal parts are split into. There's me and Ultimecia. Time and Anti-Time. And now, you and Cloud," she said nodding at Squall.

"But he isn't evil all of the time," argued Squall.

"No. But he is Ultimecia's Vessel, and you are the most powerful of her sworn enemies; SeeD. But I can't tell you much more than that right now, in fear of ruining the balance."

"So why tell me any of this?" asked Squall.

"Because you need to understand – you can't defeat Ultimecia. What will happen according to natural law – what lies in the future – to me and Ultimecia, has already happened. Neither of us can now alter what happened, happens, or will happen, inside Time Compression."

"But if you already know everything that's going to happen, why don't you tell us and we can defeat Ultimecia when the time comes?"

"Because that would create a paradox," said Ellone.

Irvine rolled his eyes. "Here we go," he muttered.

Ellone tsked at Irvine and then continued her explanation. "You must understand; I _would_ tell you everything I now know, but because it would alter events that I have already seen – even though those events _haven't happened yet_. Do you understand? It would alter something I have already experienced, and change something that cannot be changed."

Glumly, Squall nodded. He was glad to be getting even more information about what was happening, but at the same time it was overwhelming him. He felt like someone had opened his skull and whisked his brains.

"So what _can_ you tell us?"

Ellone smiled. "That's more like it," she said. "I can answer any question about things that have happened before this moment. That way, you can't alter them, and I don't create a paradox."

"Who set off the Lunar Cry?"

"Cloud did." He was expecting the answer, but a deep chill set into his stomach when she said it anyway. "After you arrived near Timber, Ultimecia had arranged for the Lunatic Pandora to be easily reachable by Cloud, and took control of his body. He boarded it, set the machine to an automatic mode, and delayed the activation of the device using a built in fail-safe. The timer told him how long there was left until the Lunar Cry was summoned, and then she abandoned the body outside Timber, having killed several Galbadian soldiers to ensure he was arrested."

"So she meant for us to die in Deling City?"

She paused just before speaking, and then obviously thought better for it, having scanned several memories inside her mind. "I can't answer that question right now."

"So did you rescue us?"

She looked at him reproachfully. "We might be powerful, but we aren't _that_ powerful. You have to understand, Squall, Irvine and Quistis were _always_ going to come for you. I simply pushed you in the right direction."

"So that _was_ you inside Cloud. You told me to leave them behind."

"Because then we'd miss getting hit by that big red blob," finished Irvine. Ellone nodded the affirmative.

"Do you have any more questions?"

"Yes, many," said Squall. "Is Tseng really no longer a Guardian? Can we trust him?"

Ellone considered the question. "You can trust him as long as you have concurrent interests. But yes, he really has been cast out of the order of the Guardians. As has Zidane."

"Can you take control of Cloud? Was that you, or Ultimecia inside Cloud fighting Sephiroth? And torturing Quistis?"

"Both instances were Ultimecia. It was also her when Cloud attacked you from inside the cargo elevator earlier during the Shinra Building Siege. But yes, I am capable of possessing control of Cloud's body. Ultimecia is stronger than me, however, so she would win in a direct competition of wills to control him. It's why he's appeared hostile to you so many times."

Squall nodded. "So she only inhabits his body at strategic times?"

"I can't answer that question, as it speaks for both before and after the present. However, I will say that up until now, she has only inhabited his body at strategic times."

Irvine spoke next. "So Ultimecia did exactly what she always wanted to do." Squall turned to regard him. "Everyone who ever hurt her is either dead, dying or outcast."

Ellone nodded. "She has destroyed her enemies in her home dimension. Galbadia is crippled with the loss of its capital. Esthar is about to suffer with the coming war. And Balamb Garden has been destroyed. SeeD has been, if you will forgive the expression, scattered to the wind."

"And I have a very dim future," said Squall. "Wanted by the Galbadians. The world at large thinking I'm responsible for the deaths of two million people. More, if they include the casualties in the war that's coming."

"So did Ultimecia make those monsters attack the Garden? Is that why it crashed in Esthar?" asked Irvine, perceptively.

"Yes. She, as the Sorceress, has the power to manipulate the portals and to herd the monsters through their group mentality."

"So she really isn't kidding around this time. Like, she just did everything she ever tried to do with two or three actions."

"She has had a lot of time to reflect and decide on her best time to strike. Now was the most favourable time for her."

"Or no time at all to think," said Irvine, reflecting on the converse nature of Time Compression.

"Did she create the portals?" asked Squall.

"That I don't know. The portals are so widespread I had difficulty pinpointing the exact moment that they came into being."

"And what do we do now?" asked Squall.

"Normally I couldn't tell you what you have to do now, because it concerns your future. However, the only way you can now proceed is if I tell you how. You must return to the Ragnarok and speak with Locke. He will be able to take you to the sage who lives at the edge of the world. From there, he will tell you what to do."

"Uh, could you get any more cryptic, Sis?" asked Irvine.

"I'm sorry, but that's the way it has to be," said Ellone with a slight smile. "Now…I love you both very much. And I want you to tell the others I feel the same way. Even Uncle Laguna, Squall."

"I don't…" said Squall.

"Goodbye."

And then she died.

* * *

Author's Notes:

We'd like to give thanks to **Ogro, LadyDeathwish, Yuleen75, Count D'Ainiac, Rakunya, mycrazylife, Brutal2003, Alpha2Omega **and **Melan Blue**. Oh, and I suppose **Macky.** He's been steadfastly following my work for ages. So if he missed one review, so what. Probably didn't like the way the last chapter ended. I saw a lot of... upset there. In a sadistic kind of way, I enjoyed it!

See you... next weekish with the next chapter!


	39. Reprieve

**Previously in Final Trinity...**

**Vincent Valentine** is dead, but he wasn't the only to fall. In the battle between mages, **Seymour, Lucrecia, Raijin, Ultros **and **Siegfried** perished as well. With Vincent's death, **Kain** has ordered the use of the main cannon of the **Invinicible**, the weapon with the power to kill **Eidolons** and destroy cities. Below, **Kefka **and **Kuja** battle still, with **Elena **and **Lani **vulnerable to the Invincible's attack. Kain, however, seems not to care about them getting caught in the crossfire...

**Chapter Thirty Nine**

**Reprieve**

Rufus looked out the observation window of the Invincible, watching the vast expanse of desert ahead of them, all the while fiddling with the controls in front of him. Below the ship, somewhere, Kuja and Kefka still fought, throwing magical forces beyond his comprehension at each other. He wasn't sure how safe they were in the airship. It all depended on Yuna and him figuring out how to pilot it out. Even though they were in the air, the ship still shook from time to time from the explosions beneath. Elsewhere was Amarant, presumably in the engine room, trying to placate Kain and his sudden need for vengeance by playing around with their newly discovered weapon of ultimate doom. He sneered at that. Of all the things to do with a 'weapon of ultimate doom', _playing with it_ was very low on the list.

"I got the comm working!" Yuna said. "How are things going down below, Amarant?"

The monk's gruff voice was accompanied with static as he responded over the machine, "Well, I figured out _hitting_ the thing doesn't work. Never thought I'd say this, but damn, do I wish Zidane were here. I'm gonna try somethin'--"

Abruptly, the ship began to quake violently. The lights dimmed, and a low hum filled the air.

"Brace yourselves!" Kain yelled, but everyone was already doing it. Rufus gripped to a rail as suddenly the world seemed to come to life around him.

Outside, night turned to day as everything seemed to end.

There was a bright light. All noise ceased. The air stilled.

And then the world exploded.

There was no other way to explain the sudden cacophony that sounded. The very planet shuddered for a moment, and nothing could be seen except intense white light.

Rufus didn't know how or when it had happened, but when the weapon finally stopped, he found himself sprawled on the ground, more than ten feet from where he'd been holding the rail. His ribs ached, and blood dribbled from his mouth from where he'd bitten his tongue. He wearily stood, glancing about the room as he did before making his way back to his station, and saw that everyone was in a similar state, slowly picking themselves up.

"Did we get them?" Kain asked.

Rufus, peering at a monitor screen, responded, "Sure."

"'Sure'? What do you mean 'sure'?"

"The sand down there has been turned completely to glass, for... _miles_ in every direction. Nothing seems to be moving down there. My best guess is, everyone that was still down there is dead."

"Then get us a way out of here," Kain growled. "We need to find this 'Faris.' See if the ship can locate her."

Just then, the human gorilla, Amarant, lumbered into the room, his knuckles nearly dragging from the slouched position he always maintained. He grunted, "Got the cannon working."

"Yes," Kain said, his voice edged with anger, "I noticed."

"Hey, you wanna be pissed at someone, Highwind, be pissed at yourself."

"I beg your pardon?"

Rufus inwardly smiled to himself. So, there was dissension in the ranks. That could prove useful. Very useful indeed. He kept his eyes on the read-out screen in front of him, but kept his ears on the conversation.

"I've had it with you and your 'tude. One minute, you're all, 'I have to be a hero,' the next you're fine with murder. Hell, you go on about 'team work', and then didn't even tell me the whole plan! What the hell was Rufus doin' chattin' up with the enemy? Was that your idea? Don't care who you want to be, Highwind, but pick one and stick with it. Some consistency would be a damn nice change."

Rufus risked a glance, and saw that the black form of Shadow was immediately between the two figures. He held no weapons, but the way he held himself bespoke of violent intent. The man hissed, "That's enough."

"No, it damn well _isn't_. Highwind here is all whiny half the time, wantin' to be this Cecil Harvey most of the day, but when it comes right down to it, he's closer to that punk Golbez who's pullin' our strings. One thing I can't stand, it's a godamn hypocrite."

"You've said your peace, Sir Amarant!" called out Cyan. The man was clearly fuming, his face turning red with anger, his hand gripped around the hilt of his katana.

"Oh, don't get me started on _you_, brass soldier. The hell was that with Kefka? You _froze_. And because of that, Valentine's dead!"

Cyan blanched, and Shadow growled, "You're done. Get off the bridge, and find something useful to do. Or there's going to be a lot of that fighting you're so fond of, but I can guarantee you, you won't like how it turns out."

Amarant glowered, and looked about ready to hit something. Instead, he looked up to Kain and said, "We'll talk later. When you're _not_ busy hiding behind Shadow."

The monk stormed off the bridge. A moment later, Kain removed his helmet, and tossed it to Yuna, who caught it, a surprised look on her face. He began to march in the direction Amarant had just stomped off in.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" she asked.

Kain stopped for a moment, turned and appraised her. "Hold onto it for me. And, can you do me another favour?"

"What's that?"

"Put some damn pants on." He turned and headed back down to the level below.

Rufus was positively grinning as he looked back to his control panel. Things were working out so brilliantly. The entire group was ready to tear each other to pieces. Kain had proved himself a capable leader in the battlefield, but in the social aspect, he was desperately lacking. At this rate, it wouldn't long at all before someone else had to step in and take leadership from him.

Soon after, Rufus heard what sounded like a brawl down below. More than likely, Kain and Amarant were tearing each other apart right now.

Yes. Not long at all, indeed.

* * *

Yuna could still feel the heat in her cheeks from Kain's comment. She didn't know whether to be angry or embarrassed. Maybe both. She had half a mind to go yell at him for the remark. The other half wanted desperately to put on some pants, like he'd suggested.

It wasn't something she was used to. She'd been teased from time to time. Made fun of at others. But it'd always been friendly. Despite her attempts at trying to be 'normal', to everyone, she had always been Lord Braska's daughter, and later, the only living High Summoner. The Bringer of the Eternal Calm. Becase of it, she'd never really been in a position to be so... mortified.

She disliked it immensely. But at the same time, she had to admit, it was slightly... liberating. She could only remember one time someone had really made her feel that way, and...

Her mind snapped back to her duties. She had to keep her mind on her mission. Find Sephiroth. Get revenge. Get justice. Nothing else really mattered until then. Dimly, she could feel Auron's consciousness in her head murmuring words of approval. Some times, she just felt his presence, like someone looking over her shoulder. Others, she could actually hear him speak. It was unnerving at best. She realized she'd needed Auron's spirit-self in order to travel through the portal, but now that she was with Kain and his group, who were also tracking Sephiroth... he no longer seemed necessary. Almost an intrusion on her self.

Something that sounded almost like a grunt echoed in her mind. A second later, a voice said, _I can move, you know._

Yuna looked around, trying to figure out the location of the voice. She quickly realized it'd been internal, and the voice had been Auron's.

"How?" she said.

_You don't have to speak out loud. That could be... socially awkward. Your friends might get the wrong idea._

_They're not my friends_, Yuna shot back. _I barely even know them_.

_A comrade in arms united under a common goal is the best kind of friend to have_.

Yuna tried to ignore the comment. Auron always had that habit of being distant, friendly, and entirely flippant and condescending all at the same time. Before, it was almost a comforting thing. Someone who both respected her and treated her like an equal. Now, it was infuriating. She wanted to be alone. Needed to be alone.

_Then put me somewhere else. Somewhere I'm needed more._

_Where?_ she found herself asking all too quickly.

Her eyes began to scan the room, and she wasn't sure if she was the one controlling her own actions. But she immediately settled them on one person who was standing by himself, looking obviously uncomfortable.

_Him_.

* * *

Fujin awoke slowly, opening her uncovered eye, and blinking away the fuzziness of her vision. It didn't help, of course. It never did. She was what most doctors called 'legally blind.' It's why she never got to drive the vehicles in Garden, or operate anything resembling artillery. She'd always wanted to drive, but no one ever let her. It was always 'too dangerous', and 'too risky.' After all, she couldn't see well enough, so how could she do it?

Something felt wrong. She knew something was off. Her world was different now, and she didn't know how or why. But something had changed. Maybe for the worse. Something had been lost. She tried to shift in the bed that someone had placed her in, but the blankets were wrapped too tightly about her. Instead, she focused on her breathing, and tried to ignore the nagging feeling of wrongness.

She didn't see him, but she was aware of his presence. She knew she was safe in the cargo bay of the Invincible, even if she was unsure of how she had gotten there. But she knew he was there. He always seemed to be. He didn't make a sound, but still she heard him. Didn't twitch a muscle, but still she knew where he was.

"THANKS," she said gruffly as she sat up, throwing off the blankets that she'd been wrapped in. She winced at the sudden motion. Her ribs felt on fire. They must've been broken and recently healed, but she didn't remember receiving the injury. "OTHERS?"

Shadow, from his spot in the darkened corner of the room, said, "Grieving."

Immediately, she felt as if punched in the gut. She knew something was wrong. Something monumentally wrong. And not just with the group. Something felt missing, something that shouldn't be.

"WHO?"

"Vincent Valentine's dead."

She felt like she was going to throw up, while at the same time, felt very relieved. She barely knew the man, but she could feel the loss instantly. This was her new posse. Maybe the one that she really did belong to. The loss of anyone in it felt _wrong_. But at the same time, she found herself glad that Shadow hadn't said another name. Not that she wouldn't be equally glad to see Amarant Coral gone.

"It's not just that," Shadow said. "Your brother is dead."

She was immediately on her feet. She could feel it in her blood. This was what had felt wrong. Raijin was dead, and...

"RAGE," she loudly rasped. She could feel the anger hammering at her, threatening to consume her. She wanted to scream. She wanted to hit something.

"Seymour killed him. And Kefka killed Seymour."

She could feel tears running freely down one cheek. The eye patch blocked the others, mostly. In frustration, she ripped it off, and sat down, sobbing loudly. She cried everything she had until she could no more. She felt empty. Raijin had betrayed her, but he'd been her brother. He'd been part of the original posse, the posse that _she_ had destroyed with her selfishness.

Shadow was there, she knew. He'd moved while she cried, and now he hovered over her. Normally, there was an ice cold edge to his aura. A killing strike, a fine blade. That's what he was. But now, he seemed awkward and uncomfortable, but _there_. He sat down beside her, and she could feel his reluctance, his uneasiness.

She leaned her head towards him, and rested it on his shoulder. He flinched for a moment. The familiar contact was definitely foreign to him. But he didn't push her away. She needed it. He knew that. She needed _him_. But that's the part he didn't know.

She was angry and frustrated and lost. She was just lost, and Fujin hated the feeling so damn much.

Lifting her head from his shoulder, she faced him, looking into his eyes. They were wary, like they always were, but at the same time, there was a level of concern. A level that he didn't show anyone else. Just her. She placed her hands to each side of his face, and slowly lowered the veil that obscured and hid so much from the world.

"What're you—?" he asked, but never got to finish.

She moved forward, as quickly as she could. Her lips pressed against his, and she began to kiss him. It was clumsy and awkward. She'd never been a social creature, had never dated. Had never even kissed a boy, even if she had--

Abruptly, Shadow pushed her back, and was on his feet. He hissed at her, "What are you doing?"

"I'm... I'm kissing—"

"I know that! Why?"

"I... needed to feel... and I--"

"Don't finish that sentence! Don't you dare. There are many people in this world... in _all_ the worlds... like me that have had to kill their emotions. Don't forget that."

The look on his face was dark, and Fujin didn't know whether to be angry or frustrated or upset or embarrassed as he left. Instead, she remembered her posse, both old and new, and cried at her loss.

* * *

Cyan felt extremely apprehensive on the bridge of the Invincible. There were too many moving parts. He couldn't _see_ any of them, but he knew they were there. All around him. In the consoles. In the walls. In the _floor_ of all places. The whole ship positively hummed with mechanical life. It set his teeth absolutely on edge.

He kept his eyes on the scene outside. The endless expanse of desert and the sky. He watched the clouds and pretended to see images in them that weren't really there. He did everything he could to keep his mind off the dreadful battle that had just occurred.

_There's a sword_, Cyan thought, looking at one cloud. _And there... a castle!_

But the image of a castle reminded him of his home, Doma. The great city-state, its centre an impenetrable that even Gestahl's Imperial army, with all its magic and technologies, could not bring down, until Kefka, before he'd ascended to Godhood, had poisoned the waters that fed it. Everyone living there had died that dreadful day. Everyone but Cyan. Why was he so special? Why did he deserve to live?

He'd had these thoughts a hundred times before. A thousand thousand times. It was what was referred to as 'survivor's guilt.' As he had trained himself to do, he focused his mind elsewhere, refusing to give in to despair. Once more he gazed upon the clouds, and saw...a bat! Wings spread wide, and...

Images of Vincent Valentine in his demonic form surged forth. Cyan could vividly recall the winged monstrosity attacking Kefka, tearing at the mad clown Sorcerer with its razor sharp nails. And then, the insane mage to use the power of an entire world's magic to rip Vincent apart, crushing his insides and tearing his wings.

He still wasn't sure why he'd frozen. Had it been fear, or had it been some vile magic of Kefka's holding him in place? He didn't know. It held onto him. Kefka was surely capable of such a feat, but it was not his normal tactic. And while Cyan's heart had always held true in battle before, now he was not so certain. He'd felt fear in that horrible onslaught. Not just fear. Terror that had sunk jagged teeth into his resolve, and then tore as much as it could before retreating. Fear had taken him.

Maybe looking at the clouds wasn't such a good idea. Perhaps, if he could procure some dice, he could entertain himself in a game with his fellow companions. Ah, how he longed for the camaraderie of old. Fellows playing and joking with each other before a camp fire, smoking a pipe, swapping stories, and the next day, once more off chasing adventure. There was a pleasant routine to it. But Cyan's bones felt old these days, and that fire that so used to be there was disappearing. He found himself more wanting the companionship of heroes beside him than the battle itself.

Perhaps he could find those dice, or mayhap even a deck of cards, in the trunk of things labelled 'Zidane' in the crew's quarters. Shadow himself had admitted that all manner of roguish things were to be found there, and what was more roguish than something to gamble with?

He turned to do just that, and nearly ran directly into Yuna, who'd been standing right behind him.

"Lady Yuna," he said politely, bowing his head slightly, and then made as if to move past her.

She abruptly grabbed his arm in one hand, and he stopped. Raising an eyebrow, he looked at her questioningly. All he could see was resolve in her eyes.

"Do you know why I'm here?" she said. Not asked. It was more of a statement. As if to affirm something.

Cyan answered, slowly at first, confused, "Uh, my Lady, you spoke of a man that Sephiroth did kill, and now you hunt the vile fiend."

"His name was Tidus," she said plainly, and without emotion, but he could see the pain in her eyes. "He was... it was our wedding day. We'd been through so much, together and apart, and we finally got our chance at happiness. But where I come from, Spira... even at its happiest... it is apparently still just a land of death."

"And then Sephiroth killed your husband? Monstrous!"

"No," she said. "He killed Tidus during our wedding. We never..."

She seemed to be on the verge of tears, but was stubbornly holding them back. Cyan, ever an emotional man, shed it for her.

"I feel thy pain, my Lady!" Cyan said. "And I shall slay the miscreant Sephiroth myself for such a despicable act! When next we clash blades with him, I shall personally have his head for thee!"

She managed a wan smile in return, and then shook her head. "Thank you, Cyan. The sentiment is appreciated. But... there was something else I needed from you. There was... someone I'd like to introduce to you."

* * *

Amarant's jaw ached. That right hook Kain had planted on him had been completely unexpected. His knuckles we're doing too much better, either. He'd left his claws in the engine room, and had to use his bare hands to lay into Highwind's breastplate. A familiar, welcomed pain filled his body. All weariness and bruises. Both from the fight before, and from his tussle with his leader. Leaning against the wall of the ship, he had to admit, Kain Highwind was a tough son of a bitch.

"You fight dirty," Amarant remarked to Kain, who was just across from him, also leaning against a wall for support. "Punched me in all the places Ultros hit me."

"Only way to make it fair," Kain said. "You hit me more than I hit you. Should've brought my lance."

"You didn't need it. This needed to be settled with fists."

"Are you going to apologize now?"

Amarant snorted. "Don't be stupid. I said what I meant, and I'm not takin' any of it back. I have a problem with you, and I let you know it."

Kain let in a sharp intake of breath, then forced it out. It all sounded strained. Amarant would've been surprised if none of the man's ribs were broken. Finally, Kain nodded, and said, "Fair enough. I wanted to ask you... Kuja. What do you know of him?"

"Y'mean, other than the fact that we just vaporized him? You're right. Probably not dead, if I know my luck. Back on my world... well, even back on my world, he was from a different world. Called Terra. Little fruity bastard started a whole lot o' wars just to mess with my world, gettin' nations to fight each other. Never did pay much attention to his overall plan. I was more concentratin' on the fighting. But the general idea was, he needed souls. A lot of 'em. So, he made sure a lot of people died, and that this ship here, the Invincible, harnessed 'em, as well as somethin' called the Iifa Tree."

"This ship? This ship harvests souls?"

"Yeah, but don't ask me how. Even if I knew how, I wouldn't tell you. All kinds of disgusting in the idea. Anyway, guy by the name o' Garland was behind Kuja. Garland created Kuja to kill my planet so they could replace us with his planet. Don't ask me how, I don't know. Somethin' to do with the Iifa Tree. But Garland knew Kuja was a sneaky little bastard. So he made a replacement for when Kuja would get out o' hand. Made Zidane, who became a hero on my world. He's the little monkey bastard that we ran into back in Shinra Tower, by the way. And Zidane wasn't the only one. He also made some broad named Mikoto. Zidane was supposed to replace Kuja, and Mikoto was supposed to replace him. People from Terra apparently had trust issues or something."

Kain nodded thoughtfully. "The 'bad guys' usually do. What happened to Kuja?"

"Hell if I know. We beat the crap out of him, then the Iifa tree swallowed him up. That is, before somethin' called Necron, supposedly some Avatar of Void or somesuch, tried to eat my damn world. Near as I can tell, he died. But then again, I thought Zidane had died trying to save Kuja's ass. Now... is there anythin' else?"

Kain cleared his throat, nodding. "There's something I wanted to discuss with you. Something important. Couldn't say it in front of the others."

"What? Y'mean, other than punching my face in?" the monk said, rubbing at his jaw. He tongued at a tooth, and noticed it was a little loose. He absently wondered if White Magic could fix that.

The Dragoon nodded. "This is something else. A bit more long term. I need to know if I can trust you, though."

Amarant almost laughed. "Trust me? Look around you, Highwind. You barely know any of us. I'm a mercenary. Always have been. Shadow was a fuckin' _assassin_, but you've managed to latch yourself onto him just fine. Fujin was a drunk when we found her, and Cyan's a godamn coward. Valentine's dead, but I sure as hell wouldn't have trusted him if he were still alive. And Rufus is a snake if I ever saw one."

"And Yuna?" Kain asked after a moment's silence. "What about her?"

"I figured she was the most obvious. Shows up out of _nowhere_, and _conveniently_ saves our asses? We don't know anything about her, 'cept she has a pair of guns, a sword, and some sort o' mad-on against Sephiroth. Which could just be a cover story. 'Least with the rest of us, you got to see us in our natural environments, right? She came to us. I ain't ever gonna trust that."

Kain looked about to retort to that when a door slammed open, and Shadow emerged from it. The man was busy fixing his veil, and there was murder in his eyes. He strode quickly between them, heading for the bridge, acting as if he saw neither. A moment later, Fujin, her face streaked with tears on one side, followed after. She seemed both sad and angry. But then, only the sad part was really new.

She managed half the distance of the hall, stopping just between Amarant and Kain, then shouted, "SHADOW!"

The assassin stopped, and whirled to face her. For a moment, Amarant really thought the two would try to kill each other. The next, Fujin turned to face the large monk and kicked him in the shin, _hard_, and he grunted and bent down in pain, reflexively reaching for the injury. He was _really_ getting tired of her doing that.

And even as he bent, she grabbed his shirt, and pulled him to her, and firmly laid her lips on his. He could've pushed her away, but he hadn't seen any action in ... well, too long. Not many women tended to find the Flaming Amarant the kind of guy they wanted to be with, even just for a drunken romp.

Just as quickly, she pushed him away, and curled her nose. "STINK."

He scowled. His shirt still smelled like manure, even after trying to wash it. Still, he erased the expression immediately and turned it into the best smirk he could manage. "Yeah, well, you really suck at kissing. We should work on that."

He was prepared for it, but he let her kick him in the shin again, as she stormed off back to her room. But Amarant wasn't watching her. He was watching Shadow. The man's eyes were unreadable, but they were dangerous. They always were, but now more so than ever. The man turned on his heel and headed directly for the bridge once more, not saying anything as he left.

"What was that about?" Kain asked.

"Not sure. Godamn I hate drama. So, what's the plan?"

Kain stood there, watching Shadow depart, and then said, "We rest for today. Real rest. Everyone gets some sleep, and heal our injuries. We've had too many major confrontations recently, and no breather. This will be that. After that... we go looking for this Faris, and do as we've been asked."

"Not that. Your other thing."

"That... will take some time to explain. We'll talk about it over lunch. Is there a mess hall in this ship?"

"Ah, hell. Might be. We never explored it fully. Everyone was too damn afraid of what we might set off if we explored too much, and I was sure as shit not curious."

"Ah, but now we have an airship expert in Yuna."

"Oh yeah, that's convenient."

* * *

Faris mulled over her glass of ale. It was still full, and she'd ordered it nearly an hour ago. And she had no intention of drinking it either. Ale was horrid in Karnak, but it was never her plan to drink in the town either, especially in the seedy, waterfront dive she'd managed to find herself in. She just sat and stared at her reflection in the liquid. Watched it stare back at her.

She could feel it in the pit of her gut. She always could. There was no helping it. That horrid emptiness. It was always there, and it would never leave her. It had left a cold grip on her mind, and a fear in her gut.

She had seen _it_.

Oh, she'd put on a brave face when all was said and done. Acted like everything was fine, and that she'd never leave her friends, and continue to pursue adventure. She certainly never had any intention of putting on a dress and committing to being a princess. Nope. Long coats, tight breaches, and a pirate's life for her. That was Faris, all right.

But the nightmares of the event never left her. That horrible moment where blackness had threatened to swallow her up, and everything around her was so cold, so _empty_. The others had an idea of what had happened to her, but they could never understand. They thought as long as they 'stayed together', everything would be fine. Nothing was fine. Nothing was right.

Ever since they had fought X-Death... or Enuo, or Neo X-Death, or whatever he wanted to be called... Faris had suffered from nightmares. Nightmares of her fall during the battle. They'd fought along a path in the Void itself. And while everyone else had safely made it out, she, for just a moment, had been stuck in complete emptiness.

She shuddered again at the memory. It had felt like... _nothing_. Pure nothing. Something no one else could even begin to comprehend. And ever since, she could _always_ feel it. It was like a physical object in her stomach. Something that sat there, threatening to devour her. There was nothing more in the entire world that she feared. But some days, she almost wanted it to.

So now she sat in self-imposed exile, staring into her cup. No one knew where she was, and she planned on keeping it that way. Oh, her friends looked for her. That was certain. But as long as she kept moving, they'd never find her. As long as she kept moving, the Void would never find her either.

* * *

Outside that very inn, something was happening. The air shimmered and rippled. A nearby cat arched its back and hissed wildly, before turning to flee. It didn't know what it ran from. Instinct merely took over, forcing it to run from what it knew was surely danger.

Blue energy slammed forth, and a circle, seemingly filled with runes and ancient letters written on the earth itself in flame. The wind whipped in all directions, sending gutter trash flying all about.

Darkness quickly returned. Dawn would soon be upon this land, but for now, the night reigned.

"Are... we alive?" Elena asked.

"Think so," Lani said. "Thanks, Kuja, for saving us."

Their leader, an effeminate man, appearing in his early twenties, sneered. Lani gulped. Back when he'd been in cahoots with Queen Brahne, everyone knew not to mess with him, and now, he seemed even more dangerous, in spite of the fact that he'd just had his tail handed to him.

He turned on them then, a sneer dominating his features. "I saved you only so you could continue to serve."

Lani gulped, but forced a smile. "Uh, of course. So, I take it you're the, uh, 'Master Ajuk' we've been hearing so much about? And aren't you supposed to be dead?"

"Appearances are always deceiving. What you might think might be one thing, sometimes turns out to be another," he cryptically responded, that melodious tone of his wavering between both the masculine and the feminine.

Lani brandished her axe, more for the sake of bravado than anything else. Beside her, Elena looked nervous, but didn't say or do anything.

"So," the mercenary asked, "where are we?"

"Same world, different place," was the answer.

"Okay, but why?"

"Why?" Kuja asked, turned to face her. A grim look of determination covered his feminine features. "Events have outpaced me. Outpaced us all. There are too many players on the field now. Where originally there were two sides, there are now so many variables. The silver-haired warrior. The Sorceress. The mad clown. The Lionheart, and his band of merry adventurers. This was to be a contest between myself and Golbez, and now... Now it has become so much more dangerous. But I mean to win, Lani. I mean to win it all. And to do that, I will need the one touched by Void. I will need that piece of her that has been tainted by the cold, and the dark. I will be one of the Final Trinity."

* * *

_A/N:_

_Thanks to Melan Blue, Rakunya, GooseJerky, Yuleen75, Brutal2003, Alpha2Omega, Ogro and Count D'Ainiac for your reviews. Glad you're enjoying the story!_


	40. The Voice, The Puppet, and the Destroyer

**Previously in Final Trinity...**

Taking refuge in **Esthar**, **Squall** has sought out the aid of his Sis **Ellone** to figure out what is going on, in particular to explore what link might exist between her and **Cloud**, who now lies in a strange coma inside the same Esthar military facility. Ellone explained that **Ultimecia**, from inside the bubble of **Time Compression** she and Squall created, is alive and well and beyond the physical reach of Squall and the others. Before she could proceed any further, she died.

Chapter 40

The Voice, The Puppet, and The Destroyer

Cloud opened his eyes and found himself kneeling in complete darkness. He jumped to his feet with a start, and after checking he had his buster sword strapped to his back, assessed his surroundings.

He was in a void, but what he was standing on shone with a pale light. It was a path leading through the emptiness. There was nothing else.

"Where am I?' he murmured.

"_You're in the Negative Zone,"_ replied a hauntingly familiar voice.

Cloud scowled. "If you think you're going to intimidate me, think again."

"I do not mean to intimidate you. Listen to me. There is a man named Sephiroth inside your mind. He means to kill you – for without your mind, your body will have no means to drive itself. It is imperative that you survive this ordeal. If you mean to survive, then you will need my help to do so."

Cloud's eyes narrowed. "I'm listening."

The setting around him blurred slightly, and in what seemed to be an entirely natural transition the Negative Zone faded and coalesced into his old childhood home in Nibelheim. His mother busily hurried around the kitchen preparing some kind of meal. A younger version of himself sat at the dining table, waiting impatiently for his meal.

"_Do you know what day this is?"_

"Yes. It's the day I decided I was going to leave Nibelheim."

"_What made you decide that?"_

"I was watching my mother working around the kitchen. I decided that I wasn't going to spend the rest of my life like her."

"_What do you mean?"_

"I didn't want to be unimportant. Waiting around this village, for nothing to happen. I wanted to go and make something of myself."

"_Do you mean to say you thought that your mother was nothing?"_

"Yes. Not something I'm proud of."

"_Have you learned anything from this experience?"_

"Love my mother?"

"Nearly. You have to learn to appreciate your origins. To succeed in your battle against Sephiroth, you must see that you are strong due to your hometown, your family, and especially your mother."

"Ok. I sort of already figured that out for myself, but thanks."

"Leave through the front door."

Cloud walked to the door and swung it open. Beyond lay the dorm room of his Shinra military academy.

"Let me guess, another lesson about respecting my origins?"

"Nearly. You have to understand that both you and Sephiroth have the same training. Although you were a soldier and he was a SOLDIER, you were part of the same army. Both of you have learned so much more than your training, but your military experience stems from the same root."

"Right," said Cloud. "Got it. Who are you again?"

"That doesn't matter right now. It will in time. But for now, don't worry about it."

Cloud nodded and stood up straighter. "Where to next?"

"Walk through the locker next to your old bed.

Cloud followed the instructions, and immediately recoiled.

"Ugh," said Cloud. He had walked right into a mass of dangling cobwebs. He brushed them from his face.

"_Sorry about that,"_ said the mysterious Voice. _"This is the last place we will visit."_

"Do you promise?"

"Absolutely. There isn't enough time to go anywhere else."

"Okay then. What's the last place we have to go and visit?"

"To the moment where Sephiroth took from you that which you held dearest."

Cloud's eyes narrowed, and he just nodded. Intuitively, he knew which path to follow, because of course he had already experienced this moment before. He emerged what his hut and started along a familiar path.

"Do I have to?" he asked plaintively.

"Yes. To face the future you must konfront the past."

"You know, you have a strange accent. Has anyone ever told you that before?"

"Aktually no. But there hasn't been much chance for people to tell me that." 

"Why is that?"

"I live in another time and place to the people you know. But enough about me. You must fokus on the trial that faces you now."

Cloud nodded as he descended the luminescent staircase that he remembered so clearly that fateful night at the City of the Ancients.

He reached the pool and across the water, he could see himself cradling Aeris in his arms, Sephiroth towering above them like the Angel of Death.

Unnoticed to Cloud, a white sphere that glowed green bounced down the stairs, and splashed lightly into the water, sinking to the bottom of the pool.

"_So _that's _where it is…"_ muttered the Voice. _"I've been searching for so long…"_

"The White Materia?" asked Cloud, eyes brimming with sorrow at the scene playing out before him. "You should've just asked."

"Because…you are…a puppet." Echoed another familiar voice from above. "And I see that nothing has changed."

Cloud's eyes met with Sephiroth's.

"I'm no puppet."

Sephiroth cocked his head slightly, amused. "Yet you are being manipulated by the unseen one manifesting itself into your aura."

"Into my…? What are you talking about?"

"_Pay no attention,"_ the Voice said. _"He's merely trying to throw you off balance."_

Cloud frowned. "No. That's what you've been doing. Showing me my moments of greatest weakness. My shame towards my mother. My regret from joining Shinra. My pain from losing Aeris. How were those things supposed to help me?"

"It appears that the puppet has become aware of his strings," commented Sephiroth, stepping down the last of the luminescent stairway.

"Who are you, anyway?" asked Cloud.

"She won't tell you that," said Sephiroth. "Not even I know who she is exactly. But I have felt her influence everywhere I go. She is the Puppeteer, bending all of those around her to her will."

"And how do you know I am a woman, Sephiroth?" asked the Voice. 

"Intuition."

"Then your intuition is correct."

"Tell me, do you exist physically somewhere? I am most dreadfully eager to make your acquaintance in a more…material setting."

The Voice cackled. _"I would imagine so. That is a complikated question. Physikally, I am not the person you want to eviscerate. The person I am now exists beyond your reach."_

"I wouldn't count on that," said Sephiroth dangerously.

"_Have I succeeded in irritating the mighty Sephiroth?"_ the Voice taunted. _"I certainly hope so…"_

"Irritate in the same manner in which a large, powerful animal is irritated by an insect bite," he informed the disembodied Voice.

"Of kourse. Now, to business."

"I suspected you might have had an ulterior motive for this encounter."

"You will soon learn all too well that everything I do has a purpose. Even if that purpose does not bekome klear straight away."

"Will the purpose of this conversation become clear straight away? Or will we be standing here for eternity?" ask Cloud.

Ignoring him, the Voice continued. _"This man has defeated you at every turn; in fakt, he is the only man to have ever beaten you – more than once, I might add – in single kombat. I offer him to you."_

Sephiroth blinked. "Offer him to me…as what?"

"Simply offer him. We are mortal adversaries, Sephiroth, make no mistake about that fakt. It simply serves both of our purposes if this man is dead."

"I can kill him without your help."

"No. I have seen the future, and if you do not strike this man down now, then you will never do so. If you kan destroy his mind, his body will fail, and he will no longer be an obstakle."

Sephiroth thought about this fact. Finally he nodded. "Very well. If it is indeed as you say, then I will be happy to – "

Cloud erupted with his buster sword, not even allowing Sephiroth to complete the sentence. The silver haired General barely had time to bring Masamune to defend himself. He took several steps back up the glowing staircase.

"My, my, you _have_ improved. I assume that it was not you I was fighting back at the Shinra Building, but our disembodied mutual friend?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about!" called Cloud as he stalked his enemy up the stairs.

"Of course not. Typical of you. The puppet only starts to see the stage at the end of his performance."

"I'm not a puppet!" shouted Cloud, flying at Sephiroth. They staggered back up the remainder of the stairs, locked in an embrace of blades, and out of the entrance to the Ancient altar. Natural daylight bathed both of them as they passed through the entryway.

Sephiroth was laughing. "Our mutual friend has provided me with quite the opportunity. To fight you on the outside would be perhaps close to an equal match. Here, you are distracted by scenes from your past."

Cloud pushed back at Sephiroth, and he stumbled into one of the huts of Mideel village that surrounded them. "Nothing could distract me from killing you – _again._"

Sephiroth afforded himself a glance into the interior of the hut he had hit. "Is that you sitting in that wheelchair? Suffering from Mako Poisoning?"

Cloud didn't need to check it was, and launched into another attack instead. Sephiroth deftly parried the movements and returned the strike.

"Yes. I fell into the Lifestream."

"Is that what happened to you after Meteor almost hit?"

"It must be. I don't remember anything after that point until now."

Sephiroth actually seemed to be thinking along another train of thought while he was duelling. "Then that's how our friend took advantage of you. She inhabited your vegetative body and took control. When she wasn't there, that fool Domino found you and in your highly suggestive state, allowed him to program you with commands."

Cloud launched another withering series of strikes. "So why did I wake up, great Sephiroth?"

"Perhaps being released from your native dimension upset the programming. There is no Lifestream there, after all. No Mako, no Mako Poisoning."

"Whatever," said Cloud, and kicked at Sephiroth. He fell back into another wall of a rickety looking hut. "It won't matter soon!"

With that exclamation, he threw himself at the elder SOLDIER and they collapsed the weak wall of the hut, shattering through the saloon doors.

Sephiroth lifted Cloud into the air and threw him onto the ground. He slid into a table and two of the chairs sat around it fell onto him.

"Get up!" yelled Sephiroth.

Cloud stumbled to his feet, throwing off the table and chairs. He found himself standing before the bar at Seventh Heaven, Tifa standing behind him pouring a drink, completely oblivious to the two men in the room with her. He sliced upwards and deflected a chair Sephiroth had thrown at him. It splintered into pieces and clattered to the ground.

"How are you still alive?" demanded Cloud.

They started to circle each other, kicking furniture out of the way as it interrupted their path.

"These portals everyone seems to be so worried about. There was one inside the Lifestream. It led to another place called the Farplane, where the dead are allowed to walk again." He interrupted his narrative to launch another chair at Cloud, which he evaded. "Fortunately the guards there provided me with little challenge, and I escaped."

Cloud walked into the bar – the Cloud within the subconscious memory – followed by the rest of AVALANCHE.

"Are these the people you failed, Cloud?" taunted Sephiroth. Clenching his teeth, Cloud threw off another series of attacks that Sephiroth blocked.

"I didn't fail them – Shinra failed them."

"If it's easier for you to believe that, then so be it."

"It's not easier to believe, it's the truth!"

"The same kind of truth that told you that you were a member of SOLDIER? That you were in control of your own destiny?"

"I am in control of my own destiny."

"Maybe none of us are anymore. Our mutual friend seems to have some kind of precognitive ability. Perhaps she is moulding all of our destinies to suit her own ends."

"I don't believe that."

"Maybe you don't have a choice."

Barrett walked to the pinball machine at the side of the room and punched a control. It sank into the ground.

"After I've finished with you," grinned Sephiroth, "I might as well finish what we all started all that time ago. Your friends won't even see me coming."

"No!" cried Cloud. "You leave them alone!"

Sephiroth chuckled. "And how are you going to stop me?"

Cloud ran at his former General and they collided into the wall again, collapsing onto the floor. They rolled around, trying to grasp at each other's throats to squeeze the life out of their opponent, and they fell down the lift shaft into the sewers beneath Don Corneo's mansion.

With a great splash they hit the surface of the water, and Sephiroth kicked Cloud away from him in the small lull following impact.

"Why can't you just die?" asked Cloud almost plaintively, gasping for air slightly as the fight started to get to him.

"Because I make life more interesting," was the reply.

Tifa and Aeris lay on the ground surrounding Cloud – both of them – and Sephiroth afforded each of them a glance.

"The two women of Cloud Strife's life. It's a shame I couldn't get to kill both of them."

"You won't get a chance."

"Shall we retire to a more comfortable habitat?" asked Sephiroth, almost humanely. He walked to a large sewer grating and cut the solid steel bars with his blade. He looked back at Cloud and then plunged into the darkness.

Cloud took up a run, and plunged right in after him. He emerged in the Gold Saucer, and saw Cait Sith reading his fortune out of the corner of his eye. Sephiroth was sweeping along the transparent tubing that led further into Wonder Square. The blond haired mercenary tore up the stairs and along the tube, and activated the sensor that automatically opened the doors.

Churning snow hit his face as he passed through the doors. He was up on the side of the Great Glacier. He could just make out the swirling black cloak of Sephiroth through the blanket of white that covered his vision, just rounding a corner in the path ahead. He sprinted after him and rounded the same corner, and saw an open cave entrance that Sephiroth must have taken. Entering the cave, he emerged inside the Temple of the Ancients – or rather, the crater that remained of it after they had turned it into the Black Materia.

His past self was walking slowly and inexorably towards the Sephiroth of the past to hand him the Black Materia, and the Sephiroth of the present leered down at him from the edge of the massive hole in the ground. Cloud started to claw his way up the almost solid face of dirt.

"You might as well stop now," said Sephiroth. "I am powerful in the physical world, but in the mental realm I am unstoppable." He ran his sword across the edge of the pit, sprinkling dirt and chips of stone down onto Cloud.

Cloud shut his eyes to shield them from the falling debris. "Then why haven't you killed me yet?" he asked through clenched teeth.

Sephiroth smirked and moved away from the edge of what remained of the Temple. Moments later, Cloud pulled himself over the edge onto solid ground. Sephiroth was nowhere to be seen.

"Where are you?" Cloud shouted.

A whisper caused him to jump and look to his right amid the trees. He was about to look away when he saw a vague structure hidden within the vegetation. Frowning, he walked forwards and pushed aside the foliage; beneath lay another doorway. He walked into it, but he didn't change to another place in his past, just inside the small structure.

On the walls lay more hieroglyphs, similar to the ones they had encountered in the main Temple. These were profoundly different in content.

He recognised the small drawing of Meteor hanging in the sky above the crowded Cetra, as well as the Calamity from the Sky – Jenova. However in the next scene along the wall, there was etched a large sphere that the Cetra were flocking to. Some of the figures on the extremities of the group were shaded red, and the figure of Jenova stood over them.

"What is this place…?" muttered Cloud.

"Part of the repository of Ancient knowledge," said Aeris behind him. He spun around, and came face to face with the girl who had died by Sephiroth's hand.

"Aeris!" he exclaimed. "How…?"

She shook her head sadly. "I'm not the girl you once knew. But there's no time to explain that." Looking closer at her, he could see that she was different – her hair was darker, and her eyes a different shade of green. Her facial structure was also different, but close enough to Aeris that, at a glance, they could be mistaken for one another.

"Why are you here?"

"I'm not. Not physically anyway. I'm…eavesdropping, for want of a better word, on whatever it is you and Sephiroth are experiencing."

"I thought that I was living through my memories, but I've never been to this place."

"Then it must be Sephiroth's memory. Your mental link works both ways."

"Do you know what this means?" he asked, indicating the wall behind him. The girl stared at it briefly.

"I think so. After Jenova fell from the sky, and she started to spread the virus, the Cetra tried to heal the Planet, but it looked hopeless. They tried desperately to cultivate the Planet in a way that it reduced the life energy consumption, but it wasn't enough. It was eventually agreed that a small number of Cetra would attempt to contain Jenova, shown in the next picture. The rest would…leave this world."

"You mean through a portal? The Cetra are still out there?"

"I don't know if they are still there, but a number of Cetra left this world in order to reduce the strain their numbers were causing to the Planet. The rest of the image sequences show Weapon being created, Jenova becoming contained, and the Cetra recovering slowly, to dwindle away to nothing, as we both know occurred. The sequence doesn't show that the Cetra who left have returned."

"Why is it here instead of within the Temple?"

"My guess would be that it was left here in case the Temple was made into the Black Materia again, thus destroying the information inside. This must be a backup copy of vital information in the instance the Cetra who left returned, and would know what happened to those who remained."

"But if Sephiroth has already seen this why didn't he use the portals sooner?"

"Maybe he didn't understand. Maybe he couldn't. I don't know."

"Where is he?"

"I don't know. But I think if you leave this cavern he will be waiting for you."

"Good," said Cloud. He went to leave, but hesitated for a moment.

"Don't be afraid of him," said the girl encouragingly.

"I'm not. It's not that."

"Then what…?"

"I know you're not her, so I'm sorry…but…" He walked over to her and kissed her. The girl tensed, unsure of what to do. After a moment, Cloud stepped back. He nodded, smiled, and then walked through the entrance to the ruin.

He emerged inside the Northern Crater, Sephiroth waiting for him on the opposite side of the cavern.

"It took you long enough," he called.

"I got distracted," said Cloud. He felt invigorated.

Sephiroth frowned, perhaps sensing the renewed energy within his opponent. He drew his blade close to the ground, stalking closer to him. Cloud mirrored the movement.

"Are you ready to finish this?" asked Sephiroth, almost amicably.

"I finished this before, you're the one who can't seem to accept defeat."

Sephiroth jabbed at Cloud's torso, but it was easily deflected. Cloud stepped into a counter-attack and forced Sephiroth into a defensive posture.

Cloud's buster sword strained against Masamune, trying to bite into Sephiroth's flesh. The powerful warrior grunted once in exertion and took one step backwards in the dirt of the cavern. Cloud pushed harder, sensing that victory was imminent.

The Crater flickered around them. The first time Cloud almost didn't notice, but the second time was a more concentrated burst of static. Sephiroth smiled. "So _that's_ how it works…" He gazed almost hungrily into Cloud's eyes, and the blond haired man could feel Sephiroth scanning his memories. Finally the scene around them materialised as the burning village of Nibelheim. Sephiroth shoved Cloud away from him.

"This is what will happen when I defeat you, Cloud," he said triumphantly, raising his arms into the air, surveilling the burning ruins around them.

Cloud's lip twisted in silent horror. This wasn't the Nibelheim he remembered – it was worse.

His mother lay sprawled on a burning pile of wood, her dress shrivelling in the heat, blood trailing from her mouth. Tifa lay next to her, her body broken. Aeris hung from a noose attached to the side of the inn. Barrett was suspended in the air, impaled by a fence post skewered into the side of a house. All around him people he had known, fought with and in some cases loved were dead in the most horribly gruesome manner imaginable.

Sephiroth came at him, and Cloud almost didn't react in time. Their swords clashed, and Sephiroth backhanded the shorter man so he staggered sideways and fell to the ground.

"Don't try and fight me, puppet," he said ominously. "Save these people this fate. Give in to me without a fight. I will make it quick and painless."

Cloud gasped on the floor for a moment, but then his breathing began to stabilise. Finally he glared up at Sephiroth.

"I see through you now. You're showing me this to weaken me. To make me give in to you. This doesn't exist; and it won't exist if I kill you," he spat. 'So trying to blackmail me with something like this isn't going to work. I'm not going to give in to you to spare these people this fate; I'm going to kill you again so it never happens."

Sephiroth's rage built with every word Cloud spoke, and finally he roared and raised Masamune to strike. Cloud, with incredible speed, grabbed his buster sword and slashed at Sephiroth's exposed torso. He didn't cut deep, but enough to make Sephiroth stagger back and clutch at his superficial wound. Cloud leaped to his feet. Nibelheim started to flicker around them.

"Let me see if I can get the hang of that," he said. Their surroundings faded into a blurry smudge, and Cloud lunged at Sephiroth, who weakly defended the strike. They locked together in a deadly duel as the scene coalesced around them to form the interior of a Shinra reactor.

"Let's take this back to where it all began," said Cloud through gritted teeth, hammering away at Sephiroth's defences. He pushed his enemy back down the stairs leading from the Jenova chamber. The pods containing human-monster hybrids hissed around them.

"To where I killed you the very first time."

Cloud viciously kicked at Sephiroth's face, making him fall back and tumble down the stairs. From halfway up, Cloud brought his weapon up and leaped down onto the former General, who rolled out of the way. The buster sword scraped along the steel of the ground, sending up sparks. Sephiroth was on his feet, and brought Masamune to decapitate Cloud, but the blonde grabbed Sephiroth's blade arm and jabbed his chest wound.

Sephiroth staggered back into the main reactor chamber, Cloud close behind him, issuing another series of attacks. Sephiroth was stumbling back the whole time, deflecting the blows while blood ran from his face.

"Just so you know," said Cloud, his breath coming more rapidly in his chest "If you ever try this again, I'll be waiting for you. Every time you magically reappear and spread your disease to the world – any world – I'll find you…"

Sephiroth stepped onto the bridge that overhung the Mako Pit. Cloud kicked at his knee, and it gave way beneath him. Sephiroth dropped to one knee, Cloud still swinging away with the buster sword. Sephiroth's defence became weaker and weaker, until at last his sword arm dropped to the gangway of the bridge, leaving him completely exposed.

Cloud raised the buster sword above his head, and glared down upon his defeated opponent.

"…And I'll cut you down like an animal."

Sephiroth returned the glare, and in a flash, Masamune was back up into the air, and he stabbed Cloud through the shoulder. Cloud cried with shock and pain as the blade bit into his flesh. The buster sword clattered to the steel gangway.

Slowly, Sephiroth started to lift Cloud from the floor. His feet dangled impotently as he grabbed the blade, his hands trembling.

Sephiroth held the man's gaze coldly. "Don't…push…your luck."

With that, he heaved with all his strength and hurled Cloud off the side of the reactor bridge. He watched with cold, dead eyes as the puppet slid from his blade and plummeted down into the Mako Pit. He vanished beyond sight into the ethereal white of the reactor.

Slowly, he wiped his blade with his cape – not because it was dirty, because Masamune drew no blood, but out of a small gesture of respect for his fallen foe. He felt his nose and observed that the blood was already starting to congeal.

He looked to the ceiling of the structure.

"It's done," he called. Within moments, he was aware of another presence in the room.

"_Excellent," _said the Voice. _"And thus our arrangement komes to an end. We are now enemies once more."_

"I _will_ find you," promised Sephiroth, but the Voice had gone. He regarded the reactor around him one last time, and then withdrew from the imaginary setting.

* * *

Quistis stood regarding Squall and the others through the observation window. She hadn't seen Ellone for a good while, and she was looking forward to speaking with her again.

Locke tapped her elbow. "Should he be doing that?"

She looked at Cloud, and saw that his arms were twitching spasmodically. Frowning, she went to the side of his bed and looked at the monitors.

His chest convulsed wildly, and she jumped. Locke pressed the call button for the doctors, and then grabbed Cloud's shoulders. He was still jerking rapidly when the medical staff entered. They took over from Locke, and he and Quistis stepped back, confused and concerned. Squall and the others continued talking up in the observation unit, unaware of what was transpiring below.

The doctor was trying to inject Cloud with something when his feet started to shake, and he grit his teeth. The monitors around the bed started to beep.

"What's going on?" asked Quistis. She was ignored.

Within moments, his entire body tensed, and then relaxed. Several of the monitors began to emit a steady tone.

"What's going on? Is he dead?" asked Locke.

The medical staff were gazing at each other in surprise. One of the doctors turned to address the two onlookers.

"Physically, he's fine. But…his brain activity just dropped to zero."

"What does that mean?" asked Locke.

"Well, it means that he's brain dead. Now, he's just a body without a mind."

"What happened?" asked Quistis, sounding slightly subdued.

"We don't know. He just took a turn for the worse. I've never seen anything like this. We'll run some tests, and see…"

Behind them, on the bed, Cloud lay almost peacefully, but for the knowledge that his mind was now dead. He had already dropped out of the attention of the Esthar military staff, who were more busily reading the monitors set up around the mysterious man.

One of the monitors emitted a sharp beep. At first, it was ignored, but then it sounded again, and this attracted the attention of a nearby nurse. Puzzled, she moved to inspect the readings and then widened her eyes. She turned to address the doctor speaking with Quistis and Locke, but then the monitor emitted a steady burst of noise as Cloud opened his eyes.

He smiled. "I can see…" he said. "All of it."

Suddenly, he was up. Pushing the doctors and nurses who surrounded the bed away from him, taking them completely by surprise. He grabbed a fistful of cables and tore them from his body, the adhesive tape ripping from his flesh, causing the monitors to register zero. They started to beep and he grabbed one by its pole, tearing the machine from its support and hoisting the metal stand like a javelin.

"Squall!" screeched Quistis, seeing the murderous intent in Cloud's eyes. Squall glanced down from the observation room where he was talking with Irvine and Ellone to see Cloud standing on his bed. The brain dead man leaned back and launched the pole directly at the observation window.

It splintered through the glass and speared Ellone through the torso. She coughed once, and then smiled, as if a great weight had been lifted from her. Then her breath shuddered in her chest and she died.

"_SIS!"_ cried Squall, moving to try and help Ellone. Behind him, unseen, Locke had leaped into Cloud just after he had released his deadly projectile, and they rolled across the ground, struggling with one another. Quistis was staring up at the observation room in horror. Irvine stood beside Squall, while Avira sat calmly watching the carnage unfold before her.

Squall felt for Ellone's pulse with a trembling hand, and couldn't find it. Tears brimmed in his eyes, and he futilely clutched at the metal pole.

"Sis, no…" he said. Irvine was holding Ellone's hand, as if it might revive her.

"Squall!" called Quistis again, and the SeeD was shaken from his grief. A glance revealed that the medical staff had cleared the room, and Locke was faring badly against Cloud. He grabbed at Irvine's shoulder and he led the sniper down into the medical room, anger burning inside his chest.

Just before the two men burst into the room, Cloud looked up from his fight with Locke. "Accursed SeeD!" he hissed at the door, and then fled the room from the other exit.

As Quistis ran to Locke's side, Squall and Irvine exploded into the room.

"Where?" shouted Squall, and Quistis pointed to the doors Cloud had just exited through. The two SeeD charged after him.

"Are you alright?" asked Quistis, and Locke nodded gamely.

"Just a few bruises probably. What about you?"

Quistis' bottom lip trembled, but she maintained her composure. "I'll be alright once Squall and Irvine find Cloud. I _never_ should have allowed him to board the Ragnarok. I should've left him in Deling to face the Lunar Cry, or shoved him out of the rear hatch at high altitude."

Locke gazed compassionately at her. "You can't think like that. This isn't your fault."

"I can't believe she's gone," said Quistis, looking back at the shattered glass of the observation window.

"Hey, it's okay," said Locke. "I'll protect you now. I swear. From Cloud, or anything else."

Quistis smiled faintly, but Locke could sense his assurance did little to make Quistis feel better.

Avira stood, looking strangely from the window, her first movement since the incident.

"We need to leave," she said. "Sephiroth is coming."

* * *

Squall and Irvine slowly ran to a stop in the maze of corridors that made up the Esthar facility.

"He's gone, Squall," said Irvine. Squall, the anger still burning deep inside of him, could only nod in grudging agreement.

At that moment, Squall's Esthar-supplied radio crackled, and an unfamiliar voice boomed from it.

"Squall Leonhart, the President of Esthar requires that you speak with him immediately. This is a matter of the utmost importance."

Squall exhaled angrily and picked up the radio. "Copy that. You need to be conducting a full scale search for Cloud Strife; he escaped medical custody and is at large." He clipped the radio back onto his belt. "Come on," he said to Irvine, and they started back along the route that would take them to the Ragnarok.

* * *

"What's the problem?" asked Squall tersely, dropping into the pilot's seat of the airship.

"It's a big one," said Laguna gravely. "I've just learned that my plan to protect you may not work as well as I'd hoped."

"Why?"

"The Galbadians have apparently been experimenting with a new magical substance known as 'materia,' which can, incredibly, allow the person who possesses it to cast magic without the need to Draw it first."

"We know that already," informed Squall bluntly.

"Well, what you might not know is part of the experiments included tests on their long range missile system. Everyone knows Galbadia would lose out on a war with Esthar, so it looks like they're going to bomb us out instead."

"What's so great about these new missiles?" asked Irvine.

"Their destructive power is multiplied by this materia. Several thousand times. I can't convey how bad it would be if the Galbadians launched these missiles against Esthar City, and by their indications, that's what they're going to do."

"How bad would the damage be?" asked Squall.

"As far as we can tell? Total. And those are just approximate damage figures. The blasts could wipe out nearby installations, towns, villages…this is going to pretty much wipe us out."

"They need to inflict the damage they've suffered onto someone else in order to feel like they're in control," mused Squall. "They need to make their own Lunar Cry."

"I think the Lunar Cry would be preferable to these new weapons," said Laguna. "They inflict mass destruction."

"What can we do?" asked Squall.

"Actually that's not the entire problem. All of our military plans have been formed around the Galbadians making a move against Esthar with a conventional military. We have no defence against these things. Which frees up their armies for other tasks."

"Catching us, you mean?" asked Squall.

Laguna nodded on the screen. "Pretty much their entire offensive detachment is headed to come get you. Their victory will be total; Esthar destroyed by their new missiles, and if they can catch you alive they have their perpetrator of the Lunar Cry to stand trial and probably be executed."

"Even if they kill me out here they have bragging rights," muttered Squall.

"That's the long and short of it, anyway. We'll be alright – we have fortified bunkers under the city that should withstand the blasts, and I've ordered everyone that can fit down there, down there. Zell and Selphie are down with them, so they should be okay with us. But you…I can't suggest anything. The military task force out there is nowhere near big enough to combat most of the Galbadian army. They're faster than you because of your low fuel. If there was some way for you to just disappear, then I'd suggest that."

Squall turned and gazed levelly at Zidane, who he had allowed out of the holding cells.

"We're close," he said. "Tseng thinks he can modify the engines to let us punch through the dimension barrier."

Laguna was squinting at the monitor on his end. "Is that…is that a tail? What are you guys talking about?"

"Get onto it then," ordered Squall, and Zidane scurried away. He turned back to Laguna. "Never mind that. I have some bad news to deliver myself."

"Worse than the Apocalypse?" joked Laguna, but Squall's face was grim.

"Much worse."

A/N:

Thanks to those who reviewed: Brutal2003, Macky, Count D'Ainiac, Ogro and Alpha2Omega. Tyramir feels a little put out that I scored 8 reviews and he only managed 5 for our last chapters, so on his behalf I beg for more...more I say! Thanks for reading.

Nisus


	41. Empty of Emptiness

**Author's Note:**

Okay, uh, we said this was a FF4-FFX fic, but that's going to slightly change. It's more of a FF1 to FF12 fix. So, er, if you haven't played 12, there will be spoilers. Very few, but they'll be there!

**Previously in Final Trinity...**

Ordered by **Golbez** to find and kill **Faris**, **Kain Highwind** has shown little to no reluctance in performing the task. Taking up the hunt after a day of rest, he means to follow Golbez's orders to the letter. Elsewhere on the **Invincible,** **Fujin** has an expressed an interest in **Shadow** that has been bitterly rejected, while **Yuna** has made a strange proposal to **Cyan**.

Chapter Fourty-One

Empty of Emptiness

"Introduce me to?" Cyan asked, bewildered.

He looked about the bridge of the Invincible, trying to discern who or what it was that Yuna planned on introducing him to. Her eyes followed where his went, knowing what he was thinking. Rufus was busy at the controls on the other side of the room, out of hearing range. Still, Cyan obviously didn't trust the man, and seemed to prefer the idea to personally kick him from the vessel. More than likely in mid-flight. Otherwise, the large room was empty, with no one else anywhere about. No one was nearby, and that confused Cyan. Yuna felt almost bad that by cryptically bringing this up, she'd intrigued him, and thereby was better able to manipulate him.

"Yes," Yuna said. "He says he's very much like you. An 'old warhorse', he calls himself."

Cyan smiled wistfully. "I have on occasion called myself the exact same term. Tell me, my Lady, where is this man you would introduce me to?"

She glanced around nervously, almost conspiratorially, letting her eyes rest on Rufus for a moment before continuing quietly. "Right here, actually. His name's Auron. He's been with me the entire time."

Cyan's eyes widened and darted about the room. Once more, she knew what would be likely going through his head. Was it Rufus? No, he already knew Rufus, and he had joined the group before she had. She only looked at the 'great' President to make sure he was not listening. She saw Cyan's fingers gripping down on his katana, and she shook her head. She hated doing this, but in a way, she needed to. For a moment, she regretted leaving behind all her friends back on her world. Not that she could have brought them with her.

"Relax," she said. "Auron's dead. He can't harm you."

Cyan's eyes widened even further at that.

"You would bring a spirit on board this vessel, into our company?" Cyan hissed. "My Lady, such a thing is not wise at all!"

"Not usually, no," Yuna agreed. "But Auron's... special. He was my Guardian once. And he's with me again to help avenge Tidus. But... well... we're not exactly... _compatible. _You see, he's sort of possessing me at the moment."

"Possessing! My Lady, such a thing...!"

"Not fully. It's safe! We once saw Shuyin do it to a man named Baralai. Shuyin was in control, but Auron figured out how to give me my 'personal space', and only influence me in small ways. We mostly did it so we could see and travel through the portals to other worlds. Otherwise, I can't do it."

Cyan nodded thoughtfully, fingering his moustache. He released his grip on his sword. "Ah, I see, my Lady. Understanding has found me at last! Auron, who was once your Guardian, now seeks to help you find the fiend Sephiroth and end his villainy alongside you the only way he can! But... you said you are not compatible? In what way? Is there some sort of ill effect from the possession? If so, I shall lend aid however I can!"

"Well..." Yuna said, her eyes tightening and a blush forming on her cheeks. There were many personal issues as to why she wanted to get rid of Auron's presence, but one came right to the forefront above all. "There is a ... _slight_... problem with the possession."

"What is it? Tell me at once!"

The blush on her cheeks deepened. "I'm a girl and he's a boy."

"Ah," Cyan said in understanding, then blinked. "Oh. Oooh. I see thy problem now, my Lady! Then, we need yonder valiant spirit to be elsewhere, then! Where shalt we place thine errant companion? No, I have an idea. We shalt place him where I can watch him. Never have I trusted the spirits of the dead, for sometimes, they art jealous of the living. Aye, I shalt watch the spirit of Sir Auron myself, and allow him to possess me!"

_That was easier than I thought_, Auron echoed in her mind. She smiled briefly, and then wiped it from her face, remembering her resolve. She had lost too much. She would be strong until she defeated Sephiroth. Then, maybe she could be happy again. Maybe.

Memories of Sephiroth brought on memories of Tidus. If she hadn't removed the smile from her face herself, those would have done it all on their own. A moment later, Cyan was brushing a finger along her cheek, and she was surprised to realize that he had wiped a tear away from her cheek. She didn't remember feeling it well up, but all of a sudden, she was crying. Soon, it turned into a wail, and then Cyan's arms were about her, holding her close.

"You said this Sir Auron was thy Guardian, correct?" he asked softly.

His arms held her softly, but warmly and gently. She felt the grief wash through her once more, and she struggled to answer, "Yes."

"Then I, alongside him, shall by thy Guardian. What must I do to have his spirit?"

* * *

Their day of rest came and went. Kain watched his crew the entire time, making sure they actually rested. To see if they mingled, and talked, traded old war stories, and did what normal groups of soldiers did. And to an extent, they did. Cyan was happy to regale anyone nearby with tales of how his vaunted companions, Lady Celes, King Edgar, Lady Terra, Sir Sabin, Sir Locke and others all vanquished Kefka. Oh, Cyan had helped, of course, but the way he told it, he bravely defending his allies while they did all the work. Shadow was there as well, but his deadly and dishonourable forms of fighting were not to be talked about in good company, the old Samurai claimed. How Cyan thought any of his present company 'good', Kain had little idea. There was something different about the man now, though. He'd always been full of bluster and quick to rise to any challenge, but in the past day, he'd become less recluse, and more active. At one point, Amarant had even insulted Yuna, and instead of warning the large monk, Cyan kicked the man's feet out from under him, and at the point of his sword, warned the mercenary to watch his mouth in the future. Everyone had been so surprised by the action that no one had moved until it was over. 

Cyan wasn't the only one who seemed different. Fujin was more distant than usual, going out of her way to avoid both Amarant and Shadow, and if either noticed, they gave no sign. But it was Yuna who acted the mostly differently of all. She, unlike Fujin, was no longer withdrawn at all. She seemed more animated, more willing to speak to people. She was still angry and bitter, but she was more vocal about it.

"She no longer speaks to herself," Shadow had remarked at one point, and Kain, startled by the revelation that she had spoken to herself in the first place, was forced to replay everything he'd seen of her in the past two days and realized that she had, in fact, done so.

And oddest of all, Kain noticed, was that at some point, Yuna and Fujin had formed some sort of bond.

* * *

Fujin growled in frustration. Cyan had loaned her his sword for the rest day, and she was furiously hacking at the air in the forms the old samurai had taught her, but no matter how much strength she put into her swing, she couldn't make the blade travel as smoothly or as quickly as Cyan could. 

"You're doing it wrong."

Fujin didn't need to turn around to know the voice belonged to Yuna. It didn't take a detective to figure out that the _female_ voice belonged to the only other woman on the ship, but Fujin had heard her come in. Yuna moved softly on her feet, but nowhere near as quietly as Shadow could. Or even that giant ape, Amarant.

Fujin tried to ignore Yuna anyway and continued, but the dumb woman stood beside her, her own sword in hand. The blade was polished blue steel, long and gracefully beautiful, with an odd, sharp hook at the tip. Even odder, if one looked closely enough – and Fujin, with her bad vision, really had to squint – it almost looked as if the blade was made out of water.

"Here," Yuna said. "I'll show you."

Fujin growled, but acquiesced, stopping her own movements and watching the other woman. Yuna gripped her own sword one-handed, held low and behind. The Gullwing – a nickname Fujin found stupid – abruptly swung. Not blindingly fast, but not slowly either. The blade almost... flowed. Yuna continued her routine, a series of attacks, each moving with the next. No single attack was particularly deadly. But it was the totality of them that put it all together into one focused strike – one that never ended, just continued to slice from different venues.

Setting her jaw, Fujin set herself in a slightly modified starting position that Yuna had just done. The katana, as Cyan regularly reminded her, was a hand-and-a-half weapon. It could be wielded one-handed, but it was best to use two, especially if you were just a novice. She tried her best to imitate what she'd just seen, and while clumsy, it wasn't altogether a bad attempt. Yuna nodded her encouragement and the two practised the same routine again. They continued that for about an hour before Yuna moved her onto another, one that was far more complex. Fujin noted that during the second routine, Yuna had begun to wield her own sword two-handed, despite that it seemed a less familiar style to her. It took Fujin a few run-throughs of the pattern to realize that this particular one was more based on power, and using your arms more as a spring to attack with a killing backstroke, a style more suited to a katana.

When they were done, they were both panting and sweating hard, and Yuna wore a lopsided grin on her face. "I haven't had a workout like that since my first meeting with Paine."

Fujin grunted. It had been rather intensive, but not nearly as hard as the one she'd had with Amarant and Cyan the other day. Still, she was sore, and the good kind. Not the 'Amarant Coral just punched her around the room' kind.

"Where did you train?" Yuna asked.

"AMARANT," Fujin responded. "CYAN."

"Oh. Have you know them long?"

"A WEEK."

"Oh," she said again.

There was silence for a while, and Yuna left and came back with two glasses of water. Handing one to Fujin, Yuna plopped herself down on the floor. After a moment, Fujin, too tired to stand, sat down beside her.

"You're pretty good," Yuna said.

Fujin grunted in response, and took a drink of her water. The hairs on her neck stirred, and she immediately whirled to face the area behind her. There, in the small portion of the room where no light touched, was Shadow. She didn't know how long he'd been there. Likely a few minutes, but maybe for as long as the entire time she'd been practicing. Realizing that he'd been discovered, the assassin stepped forward, and into the light. Yuna gave a sharp intake of breath. At first, Fujin thought it was just from the man's sudden presence, dominating the room, but a few seconds later, she realized it was something else entirely. On his left hand, he wore a golden gauntlet, each of the fingers tipped, razor-edge weapons. Despite its colour, it gave off no reflecting light. Fujin recognized it for what it was immediately. It had been Vincent's. And then she noticed the gun he was negligently carrying in the other; Cerberus, the three-barrelled pistol that had also been the Turk's.

Shadow flipped the weapon casually, catching it by its barrel, and extended it handle-first to Yuna. "It's yours now."

Yuna seemed to shrink back from it. "I can't. It was Vincent's."

"So?" he hissed. "Make use of what materials we have. Your own guns are nice, but I've seen the level of fire-power this weapon has. You'd be better off."

"It was Vincent's," she asserted again. "I'm not a grave robber."

"Well then," Shadow said, a dead smile playing in his eyes. "I suppose it is a good thing we have not buried him yet."

"I don't take the property of the dead," Yuna growled, standing up.

"If I were to die, I'd expect someone to take my possessions and make use of them. Besides, unless I miss my guess, didn't you say that sword you wield used to belong to your dead husband, Tidus?"

Yuna clenched her fists. "That's different. Put Vincent's things back."

"I don't waste. Vincent is dead. Kain already agreed we'll stop by back in his dimension and bury him there. But in the mean time, his body's on ice, and we're short on supplies. And if you don't want his gun, I'll just give it to Rufus."

Fujin abruptly stood up, and snatched the weapon from Shadow with one hand, while grabbing Yuna's with the other. She shoved the gun into it, and growled at the assassin. Shadow, his face expressionless, turned and walked away without a word.

"JERK," she said.

"Tell me about," was Yuna's response. The woman was looking over the pistol. She abruptly spun it in her hand, and took quick aim. She sighted a few targets around the room with blazing speed, and then put it down. "Lighter than it looks. What's... with the two of you, if you don't mind my asking? And Amarant, now that I think about it."

"STUPID. BOTH."

"Kain told me about your little bit of drama with Shadow and Amarant in the hallway. If Amarant's so stupid, why did you... you know... Kiss him?"

Fujin could feel her own anger building, fuelled mostly by embarrassment. Why _had_ she done that? It was something that had seemed right at the time. Well, it had seemed wrong, too. Amarant was--

"Do you like Amarant?"

"NEGATIVE," she said. "SMELLS. DUMB. GROSS. RUDE. HAIRY. UGLY. EGOTISTICAL. ARROGANT."

"Okay!" Yuna said, waving her arms defensively. "I get the point. He is those things. I think that's the most amount of words I've ever heard you say at once. Still, if you don't like him... why'd you do it?"

Fujin frowned to herself. Why _had_ she done it?

She only responded with one word. "SHADOW."

* * *

The day of rest finished. Rufus had spent most of it figuring out the ship's systems, and managed to find an odd energy signal in a town not far from their location. Once the rest period was over, Kain gave the order for the Invincible to head to the signal, which was originating in a small inn, not far from the town's walls. 

The airship touched down in a meadow not far from town, so as not to alert the local populace of their presence. Kain was also sure that Golbez would also frown on normal people seeing an airship of the Invincible's make. He was certain that this world had never seen one like it. The night sky was guaranteed to give the ship enough cover in the small time it would take for them to do their dirty work and return.

As the ship's bay opened, Kain began to give orders. "Amarant, Cyan, Yuna... you're with me. Shadow, I need you to scout the area, look for anything suspicious. Rufus, guard the ship. Fujin, make sure Rufus doesn't steal it."

Fujin growled at that, and looked about to protest. Kain quickly silenced her. "I need someone to babysit him, and it's either leave you behind, or Amarant _and_ Shadow. We can't have any of this drama of yours begin to affect the mission. If you want to come along on the next trip, you're going to have to prove to me you've grown up a little. Are we clear?"

"AFFIRMATIVE," she responded.

Kain risked a glance at Rufus, and saw that the man was smirking, as if amused. The Dragoon added, "If Rufus tries anything, you have my permission to shoot him."

"NO GUN."

"Use Rufus'."

That wiped the smirk right off the man's face. Somehow, that made Kain feel just a little better inside.

Those that were supposed to left the ship. Shadow immediately retreated into the night's darkness, moving at a brisk jog, making little to no noise. Amarant took point for the group, while Cyan, sword drawn, warily watched their rear. Kain was left mostly alone with Yuna as they began their walk to the town.

Their trip was a silent one, a stealthy march until finally, someone had to break it.

"Hey, what's wrong with my lack of pants?" Yuna suddenly said.

Kain nearly stumbled on an errant rock. He gave her a stunned look, and shook his head, intent on not answering the question.

"Well?" she asked again, an amused note in her voice. When he didn't respond, she added, "You do remember your order yesterday, don't you? 'Put some damn pants on'? I'm just curious... what's wrong with my shorts? And how's it any of your business?"

"Well, as the leader," Kain stumbled, "I thought it would be more appropriate if... you... I was in a bad mood. My mind wasn't in a good place. Can we not talk about this?"

And that's when she gave him her grumpy face. He tried to ignore it, pretend it wasn't there. She peered intently at him, making it as obvious to him as possible. He slapped a hand over his face.

"I suppose I was a little out of line," he offered.

"A little?" she asked.

He tried to ignore that.

"I'm just wondering where you get off thinking you can order me around like that. I'm not one of your flunkies--"

"Oh _wonderful_," came Amarant's comment from up ahead. "I'm a flunky."

"--that this Golbez guy hand-picked for you. I'm here because Sephiroth--"

"We heard your story," Kain said, interrupting her. "But if you're going to be travelling with us, you're going to have to listen to orders."

"I'm tired of everyone pushing me around," she growled. "People kept telling me I'm too easily pushed around. I've had it! I'll listen to your orders, you... you... stupid tin-can wearing ... dummy!"

Up ahead, Amarant laughed uproariously, while Kain frowned, looking down at his breastplate. While it had taken damage in recent days and now sported a few cuts, some burns, and a few indentations from bullet shots, he didn't think his armour looked _stupid_.

It was at that moment that Shadow chose to materialize from the darkness of the wilderness. "I don't even know why I bother on these scouting runs. You lot make enough noise to alert anything I might be trying to get us to avoid."

"Report," Kain growled.

"Town's up just ahead. The inn is just inside its walls. I already set up a makeshift ladder with two larger branches so we can climb over it without announcing our presence to the town guard. No one patrols the walls, they just look after the gates."

"Then let's get to it."

They quickened their pace, and when they reached the walls, they stealthily made their way up. Even Cyan seemed to have no problem in that area for once, quickly scaling the wall using the branches with a minimum of sound.

"Where's the inn?" Kain whispered once they made it over the wall and into a back alley.

"This place right here, actually," Shadow said, pointing to a two-story building directly in front of them.

"Anyone else smell somethin' burning?" Amarant asked.

Kain took a good whiff, and curled his nose. Something did stink of burned sulphur, but it was light, barely there. But it was the distinct odour of something he was very intimate with.

"Magic," Yuna and Shadow echoed at once, and Kain nodded his agreement.

"There," Cyan said, pointing to the ground they were standing on. "Someone has cast the vilest of magics here, and recently!"

They all looked to their feet, and on the ground was a giant glyph, one that had been seemingly burned into the stone pavement. Amarant spat, his disgust evident.

"One o' Kuja's," he explained. "Seen 'em before. Teleport circle."

"Meaning Kuja's still alive," Kain surmised. "Wonderful. And here on top of it all. Anyone have any idea how old it is?"

Everyone glanced at each other nervously, but no one answered. Kain swore. No one with the knowledge to approximately even guess how long it'd been since one of their legion of enemies had teleported in. Meaning, Kuja could have come in and left already, or could still be there.

"Cyan, you and Yuna go through the front entrance. Shadow, climb up, see if you can get in there by one of the second floor windows. Amarant, you're with me. We're going to kick in the back door. If any of you see Kuja--"

"Report back immediately," Amarant said. "Yeah, yeah, I know."

"I was actually going to say see if you can catch him by surprise and kill him. I don't want a large confrontation with a mage in the middle of a town if I can avoid it. A quiet, messy death without him ever seeing it coming would make my day a happy one."

"Highwind, I take back half the bad things I ever said about you."

Kain snorted, then looked around at his companions, who were still gathered about him. "Well? Get to it, people!"

They moved with a purpose, doing exactly as he instructed. He and Amarant headed to the rear door, and at first the large monk appeared as if about to kick it down. The man seemed to think it over, lowered his foot, and experimentally tried the knob. It clicked open, and he grunted.

"That ain't right."

They entered a simple storage room filled with barrels of what was probably wine, and bottled that contained various spirits. Kain held his spear out, keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary.

"An inn that doesn't lock its store room usually ends up broke," Amarant whispered.

Kain nodded. From the looks of it, Kuja had probably come in through the back door. And had used some level of stealth, instead of merely blasting down any obstacle in his way. Meaning, one of his compatriots, one skilled in lockpicking, had likely survived. Tallying through his mental list of rogues that he'd been briefed on by his allies, that meant at the very least Elena was alive.

Kain reached with one hand to open the next door, but Amarant's hand stopped him.

"Trapped," he said.

Kain inspected the door carefully, but didn't see anything off about it. No odd wires, nothing wrong with the knob or the hinges. Everything seemed normal.

"How can you tell?"

"Sulphur," Amarant said. "I can smell a little bit of it. Someone's cast a spell in here. And Lani wouldn't leave a door like this untrapped."

"So what do we do?"

Amarant did say anything, merely lashed out at the door with his foot, splintering it in half, both sides flying outward. Both he and Kain ducked instinctively, but nothing happened.

"Maybe you were wrong," Kain offered.

"Like hell."

Picking up a barrel, the man hurled it through the door. Immediately a gout of flame filled the doorway, striking the barrel and exploding it. Kain shielded his face, the rest of him safe behind his armour. Amarant wasn't so lucky. After the debris cleared, the man had a small chunk of wood sticking out of his shoulder. With absolute detachment, the man tugged the offending piece from his arm and tossed it aside.

"Well, that was dumb," the monk said.

"But probably saved our lives. Do you think it was a one-time only trap?"

"Probably. Kuja always was too godamn cocky and lazy. But just in case..." Amarant said, picking up a bottle of wine and tossing it through. It crashed harmlessly on the other side, splattering wine and glass in all directions. "Guess it's clear."

The two moved on, but not before Amarant made sure to pick up a few bottles of whisky and wine, claiming they were to 'treat and disinfect his wound.' They moved through another storeroom, and tested the next door, finding no traps on it.

Beyond that was the common room. All about tables and chairs were strewn about. In one corner there was a fat man, likely the innkeeper, his neck at an awkward angle. In the middle, a long-haired man wearing a black coat sat, his knees held to his chest. Yuna and Cyan were at the front door, looking about the room, both with weapons drawn. Kain noted that Yuna held Vincent's pistol, Cerberus, in her main hand, one of her old pistols in the other.

"No one's here save her."

Kain nearly jumped at the voice, but managed to control himself, turning to see Shadow standing in the darkness of a stairwell, completely cloaked in its shadowy embrace.

"No one alive, anyway," he added.

Kain frowned. Shadow's statement wasn't lost on him. He'd said 'her', not 'him,' when talking about the person in the middle of the room.

Kain readied his spear. He knew what he had to do. Walking towards the woman, he called out, "Are you Faris?"

She looked up, her face tear-streaked, a smile of ultimate joy pulling at the corners of her mouth. "Aye."

"What happened here?"

"She came," Faris said. "She said her name was Kuja. She came, and she took it."

"She?" Amarant said. "I know it's hard to tell, but Kuja's a guy. Or what passes for one on his planet."

"What did Kuja take?" Kain asked, holding his spear out. He didn't want to have to kill this woman, but Golbez had told him to. But not why.

"The Void," she answered, a look of bliss on her features. "I saw the Void. I saw absolute nothing... and now, it's gone. I don't see it anymore. It's not in me."

"What's not in you?" he asked, confused.

"The Void!" she said, almost rapturous in the way she said it. "Nothingness itself was in me. I could always feel it. Always eatin' at me, trying to rip its way out. I could always feel its claws... but no more. Kuja saved me."

"It sounds like the reason for our vile mission is now gone, Sir Kain," came Cyan's voice.

"You're figurin' that's why Golbez sent us out here," Amarant said. "For all we know, this chick might be part o' somethin' else. I say we kill her, just to be safe."

"Sir Amarant!"

"What is this Void?" Kain asked, teeth gritted, trying to ignore his companions. "What happened?"

"We fought it," came Faris' answer, tears streaming from her eyes. Not tears of sadness or terror, though. Tears of supreme joy. "We fought X-Death, who wanted to unleash the Void on us all. Absolute nothingness. During the fight, I fell. It took everything my companions had to pull me from the brink, but even so, something came back with me. It was always in me. A coldness. And now it's gone. Kuja took it. She saved me."

"_He,_" Amarant asserted again. "He's a guy, trust me on this, as absurd as that is."

"We should kill her to be safe," Shadow hissed. "And then leave this place."

"Sir Shadow! I will not allow that!" Cyan cried.

Yuna stepped forward. "I agree. We can't harm this woman. It sounds like whatever it was that was going to happen here happened. We already lost this fight."

"You're going to kill me?" Faris asked, as if finally grasping what they were debating. She stared at Kain hard. Not angry. Just surprised. "Now? After it's finally gone? After I'm finally free? If you had offered yesterday... I'd have said yes. But not now."

Kain tightened his grip on his spear, levelled at her throat. He could kill her. It'd be the safe thing to do. The thing Golbez wanted him to do. And Golbez held the way to get him home. Or did he? They had the Invincible now. With the Black Materia in it, they could probably use it to travel home. But they needed to stop Sephiroth. That was so much more important now. And Faris had no part in that battle.

"Everyone, out of here," Kain said firmly.

His companions all had varying degrees of obedience. Shadow left quietly, while Amarant muttered before heading back into the liquor pantry, like to pick up more 'medicinal supplies.' Yuna hesitated a moment, staring hard at Kain, before turning away. Cyan was the last to go, his hand gripped on his sword hilt, obviously angry. After a moment, he too left.

"I was told to kill you," Kain said. "I was going to do it, too. But I'm no assassin. Not for a pointless cause anyway. You had something in you. It's gone now. So I don't see any point in doing someone else's dirty work."

"I... thank ye," Faris said. "If I may ask... who are ye?"

Kain stepped away, meaning to leave without answering the question at all. But the answer came to his lips anyway. His back to her, he walked through the door and simply said, "We're the bad guys."

* * *

They made their way back to the Invincible in little time at all. No words at all were exchange, but disapproval from all sides filled the air. Shadow and Amarant didn't like that they hadn't gone the safe route and killed Faris regardless, and Yuna and Cyan didn't like that they'd ever considered the course of action in the first place. Once back on the ship, Kain purposefully strode into the room he'd claimed as his own quarters and made sure to lock the door behind him. 

"Why haven't you killed Faris yet?"

The sudden appearance of an unexplained voice was nearly enough to make Kain jump, but he managed to restrain himself. The voice was Golbez's, he knew, and he would not give that shade the satisfaction of knowing that he'd managed to startle him.

Instead, Kain turned slowly to face the shadowy figure, and gave his best contemplative frown. He even tried to take on a dismissive glance, as if Golbez weren't really worth considering at all.

"Oh, Golbez. I didn't see you there. Are you doing all right? You seem a little... shadowy for some reason."

The dark figure managed a sneer so great, Kain could detect it even through the bluriness. "Oh, I understand now. You have been using the time I have given you to prepare that astounding barb. Please, proceed immediately to Faris' position and terminate her."

Kain made sure to deliberately and intently study the tip of his lance for scratches and nicks. It was a futile effort. The weapon had been magically enchanted to never receive such damage in mundane fighting, but the Dragoon felt like stalling before answering. A few moments passed, and Golbez seemed on the verge of apoplexy before Kain said, "We've already been there. We were too late. Someone came and... took something from her. By the way, when were you going to tell us about Kuja?"

"When it was necessary for me to tell you. Do I need to spoon feed every morsel of information to you like a child? Or are you able to formulate explanations all by yourself?"

"As I recall, when you first recruited me, you told me the threat was Sephiroth. Now I have to deal with Kuja, his gang, and an insane clown named Kefka. I'm just wondering what else you've neglected to tell me. Who else is going to show up? Zeromus? How about that thing that helped Sephiroth nearly destroy Rufus' world? Jenova? Or what about the witch from Fujin's world, Ultimecia?"

Golbez growled, "The threat is whatever I tell you it is. The threat was Faris before you failed, more utterly than I thought possible even of you. Now the threat lies in another world, though I am not sure you are up to the task. If you failed a simple mission like you just did, who knows to what levels of ineptitude you'll plummet."

"You're right," Kain said, growing angry. "I may just be an utter failure after all. I guess you should just send me home, and let someone else deal with this problem of yours."

"You don't get out that easily, Kain. Although, I am sending you home."

"I'm confused. I don't get out, but I'm getting sent home anyway. No, wait. You're confused."

Golbez clasped his hands behind his back, and began to pace slightly. Kain had never known Golbez to pace. Things must've taken a definite turn for the worse. "The threat now lies in the Land of Summoned Monsters, in your... our world. All you have to do is go there and retrieve an item of information. A simple task, though I am certain it will be filled with a minimum of efficiency."

"Oh, and I suppose I'm going to have to depopulate the entire area to get it? Maybe stomp on some children's throats while I'm at it? When this all began, you said I'd be striving for redemption. But all I'm doing is your dirty work, and sinking myself in deeper into the darkness."

"Kain, please," Golbez said, sounding particularly pained. "Don't delude yourself with this nonsense talk of 'redemption.' You and I both know that right and wrong are simply points of view. While Cecil and his merry band of do-gooders traipse about fields of eternal sunshine filled with pretty flowers and white, fluffy bunny rabbits, the ones doing the _real_ work are the ones willing to make the tough decisions. Doing the 'wrong' thing for the 'right' reasons. And don't tell me you are so blinded by ego that you are doing all this for Cecil. You told me that you sought redemption for yourself. True? Then what is redemption, if not the process of seeking approval of others; redefining yourself to their own standards and morals? When are you going to decide what is 'right' and 'wrong' for yourself? Are you your own man, Kain, or are you still living in Cecil's shadow?"

The words shocked Kain. Stunned him. He didn't know how else to respond except with, "What do you need me to do?"

Golbez smiled a condescending smile. "Go to the Land of Summoned Monsters. I need any information about something known as the 'White Materia.' I have recently revealed its whereabouts as of a year ago, but it... moves. I am unable to follow its trail, but I know the Summoned Monsters of our world may have an idea. You must go there in my stead and assess where it has travelled. Others search for it. Be steadfast."

"Sounds easy enough." He stopped for a moment, scratching his chin. "What's the catch?"

"The Monsters may be unwilling to impart such information. You might have to... spur them on into revealing it."

"Are you insane? Do you know the power they possess? There's no possible way we can take it by force, if that's what you're suggesting."

"That is not my affair. Reason with them. Offer then something more valuable in exchange. Failing that, find something that will overwhelm them. I believe you presently possess an airship that is able to devastate entire cities. That should be sufficient."

Defeated, Kain uttered, "I'll do it. Now get out of my sight."

* * *

Author's Note: 

Okay. There's been a LOT of confusion over Ellone for some reason. So, I'm going to clear it up. She did not 'die twice.' In chapter 38, it ended with the sentence 'And then she died.' It gave no details to her death whatsoever. It just said she was suddenly dead. Some people chose to interpret this as her falling over dead on the spot. Not so. This is what writers call a 'hook.' It entices the reader to keep reading.

Then, chapter 40 went back a little bit in time, and explained events. How she died, and more importantly, _why._ It made sense for her to die at the end of chapter 38. But if we just said 'Cloud speared her with a piece of metal', and left it at that... well, it wouldn't be much in the way of story telling.

For any confusion that was caused, we apologize.

Also, uh, don't worry about this fic falling into obscurity. It's hardly forgotten. I've just been increasingly getting busier, and unfortunately, more burned out on my ability to write. This is in no way Nisus' fault. He's been a good writer, and he's written several chapters in advance. But if I posted those, that means that his storylines would advance, while mine wouldn't, and when it came time for those stories to link up – and they will – well, it just wouldn't work. So, yeah. Everyone blame Tyramir. Bad Tyr. I'll try not to delay so much anymore, but once again, there are no promises in that area.

In the mean time, thank you to **Samurai Ming, WolfenDragonfly, Ogro **(twice)**, Count D'Ainiac, Alpha2Omega, Darth Necron, Yuleen75, Macky, **and **Brutal2003**. A very special thanks goes to **LadyDeathWish** for her vast amount of help with the fic.


	42. Back to the Other Dimension

**Previously on Final Trinity...**

**Ultimecia**, the Sorceress slain by **Squall** and his companions far in the future, lives on in the bubble of **Time Compression**, created by **Ellone**. Existing beyond the scope of regular time and space, she is engineering events to her own end, including bringing about the death of **Cloud Strife**. Though his body lives on, his mind was destroyed by **Sephiroth**, allowing Ultimecia to take possession of it. Upon seizing the body, she proceeded to murder Ellone and escape from the Esthar medical facility Strife was being treated in, leaving Squall and the others reeling. Meanwhile, **Tseng** and **Zidane** have been attempting to discover a way to break the barrier between dimensions without the use of their abilities as **Dimensional Guardians**, and Squall has received word that the Galbadian military is planning to use **Materia-enhanced missiles** to decimate Esthar, allowing their military task forces to pursue the SeeD Commander and his group on board the **Ragnarok**.

Squall's eyes stung with unshed tears, anger burning in his gut. He really wanted to hit something, but at the same time, he didn't want to give her the satisfaction, knowing that she could be observing him at any time.

Her. _Ultimecia._ The Sorceress who now existed beyond time, beyond their reach. But they were not beyond hers – Ellone had been testament to that.

Irvine sniffed in the pilot's chair, still staring at the dark monitor that had minutes ago displayed the face of the President of Esthar. The two men sat in silence; Irvine's melancholy and Squall's angry.

Finally, Squall was the first to speak. "They told me that glass was unbreakable. And he still managed to break through it. Is he really that strong?"

Irvine shook his head minutely. "Probably not. You heard what Ellone was saying. Ultimecia could have gone back to the time when the technicians were installing the pane of glass, taken control of one of them, and purposefully weakened it so she could throw that metal bar through. She can be at any moment in time because of the Time Compression. She _is _at every moment of time."

Squall's anger abated as the reality of the situation finally sunk in on him past Ellone's death. "How do we fight someone who exists beyond time? I mean…_we already killed her._"

Irvine shrugged. "I dunno, Squall. I'm not sure we can. I don't know if I care."

They sat for a few moments more, stooped in the harsh reality of the situation. Finally Squall stood up.

"I'm going to go check on the others."

Chapter Forty Two

Back To The Other Dimension

"How are we doing?" pronounced Squall in short, clipped words as he walked into the holding area. Schematics lay scattered around the floor, and Zidane, Quistis, Tseng and Avira studied them frantically, trying to make sense of the science of the situation.

"We're close," said Quistis, whose eyes were red from shedding tears. Squall saw how she must be feeling and tried to set aside his own emotions for now. If Quistis was going to put aside her grief and figure out a way to save them, then he wasn't going to spit on her example and wallow in his own. He would follow her example and figure it out later. "Reno gave us the idea to just try punching through the dimensional barrier using the Ragnarok rather than trying to open an existing portal."

"The theory is much less complex this way," said Tseng. "Much less subtle, I might add, but simpler."

"What do you need to pull it off?" asked Squall.

"We need to modify the engines, and then travel at a certain velocity and possibly a certain pitch to successfully navigate dimensions."

"Is that it?" asked Squall.

"Actually…no," said Quistis. Tseng finished for her.

"In order for this to work, we will need matter that has existed in another dimension to excite the reaction within the engines and enable us to leave this world."

"I don't understand," admitted Squall.

Quistis folded her arms. "If it was just a matter of travelling very fast, anyone would be able to create a portal. What we need is something to weaken the dimensional barrier; matter always wants to return to it's natural form, and in this case that would mean trying to return to its native dimension. We need that reaction for us to the tear through the fabric of reality."

Squall was frowning. "That doesn't sound very feasible."

Zidane shrugged. "It doesn't to us, either, but that's what this research is telling us."

"So we'll return to the native dimension of any matter we put in the engines?"

"No. The matter would burn up too quickly to affect the reaction that way. It's just a catalyst for the breakthrough; we don't know where we'll end up, but it probably won't be the matter's native world."

"But how does matter in the engines make the reaction work? Wouldn't there need to be something on the nose of the ship to punch through?"

Tseng shook his head. "You're thinking much too three dimensionally. You see, the fabric of reality is all around us. We aren't flying _into_ a portal, more being _surrounded_ by one. Thus, a reaction at any point around the ship would generate a sufficient reaction."

"Well, as long as it works," said Squall, resigning himself to ignorance. "Where are we going to get the matter from?"

"We're working on that."

"You have about an hour to figure it out, and then the Galbadians get here."

"Alright, let's get back to work then," announced Quistis, and the assembled group buried their heads back into the technical manuals and research readings around them.

Squall walked to the cargo hold, where he found Locke gazing out of the rear viewport.

"I need to ask you something," said Squall. Locke looked slowly from the window to observe Squall. "Before she…" His face twisted slightly with emotion, but he suppressed it. "Ellone told me you could tell us where to go next. Something about a 'sage living at the edge of the world.' Do you know anything about that?"

Locke's brow furrowed in thought. After a few moments, he shook his head. "I don't remember meeting any sages. In my own dimension, or any other."

"Try and cast your mind back," urged Squall. He wished more than ever Ellone were here; then she might be able to take Locke back to his own past to this Sage. "It's very important."

After a few more moments of silent contemplation, Locke shook his head again. "I'm sorry, Squall. I'll keep thinking about it. But right now, I can't think of anything."

Irritated, Squall nodded, and withdrew from the cargo hold. He walked to the nearest communications console and hailed the Esthar facility. Within moments, the commanding officer received the transmission.

"Any news on Strife?"

He shook his head through the monitor. "Negative. We searched the whole facility. Inside and out. He's nowhere to be found."

Squall sighed and nodded. He had expected as much, but he was still bitterly disappointed. "And finally, before we depart…I have a more personal request."

* * *

As Ellone's body was loaded onto the Ragnarok, the atmosphere was tense in the holding cells. With the Galbadians drawing ever closer, it was becoming more and more desperate that they find a viable solution to their technical problems. 

"That won't work," said Tseng, in response to one of Avira's ideas. "The matter absolutely must have originated from another dimension, otherwise it won't function. There's no way to fake extra-dimensional material."

"So where are we going to get it from?" shot Quistis.

"I don't know. We need to get to another world to get matter, but we can't leave this world without the matter. It's a no-win scenario."

"C'mon, guys," said Zidane. "I'm sure we've all gotten out of more serious situations that this before. I always found a way to get through it, and I'm sure you did too. We just gotta figure out how."

"Blind optimism isn't going to be much use to us," commented Tseng. "You should know better than anyone, the physics of this situation are extremely delicate; one mistake and we could collapse reality itself."

Zidane _psshed_ Tseng's notion, but didn't reply.

At that moment Reno wandered through the mechanised doors that led through to the holding area. He narrowed his eyes at Tseng through the barrier separating them for a second, and then addressed the rest of the room.

"Squall says we need to move," he said. "We'll be taking off in a few minutes."

"Maybe I should go help him," said Quistis, gazing off into the distance.

Reno shook his head. "I think they've got it covered."

"No – I think I should go."

Reno frowned slightly. "No – really, I think they're okay."

"But what if they miss something? What if something goes wrong?"

"I think Irvine can manage taking off in the airship. He's done it before."

"We're doing a lot of thinking, but the fact remains I have to go to the cockpit and help my superior lift off in this airship." Her voice trembled as she spoke.

"Don't get excited, I just…think…that you're more use down here."

"Do not adopt that tone with me, _cadet,_" spoke Quistis sharply, her voice rising.

"Woah, easy," said Reno, straightening his back as he took affront to her form of address. "Calm down."

"I _am_ calm," said Quistis, her voice still rising. "And don't give orders to me. I am your superior officer within SeeD."

Reno's eyes narrowed. "That's a shame, because I don't think SeeD exists any more – did you miss the update that said the Garden got blown to shit?"

Quistis slapped him sharply. His mouth half dropped open in surprise. The others in the room sat in stunned silence, watching the altercation.

"Of course SeeD still exists. While I draw breath it still exists. And while it still exists I outrank you. And for as long as I…" She paused, catching her breath. "For as long as I out…" She blinked and started to draw breath more rapidly. "Outrank you, you will follow my orders."

Reno's eyebrow arched and Avira came to stand next to Quistis. "Are you feeling alright?" she asked.

Small beads of sweat were gathering on Quistis' forehead and her eyes were slightly glazed.

"Of course I'm alright. I just need to get to the…to the cock…" Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she fell back into Avira's waiting arms. The two free men rushed to assist her as she was lowered to the ground.

Reno was smirking as Avira checked her pulse. Zidane punched him in the arm.

"She meant _cockpit._"

Reno nodded knowingly at the younger man. "I know what she meant."

"You're disgusting."

"You were thinking it too."

Zidane snorted in disgust and looked to Avira.

"She's alright. I have a pulse, anyway. Does this ship have any medical facilities?"

* * *

Leaving Irvine in the cockpit, Squall ran to the medical bay as the Ragnarok lifted off the ground. 

"What's wrong?" he demanded, entering the small room. Avira was administering some kind of liquid through a syringe in Quistis' arm.

"I think I know exactly what," she said. "Back in the old Shinra building, my superior Hart instructed me to create a truth serum which he then had me inject Quistis with."

"Ok…so?"

"It's also a poison that is supposed to kill within six hours of being administered. I was supposed to give her the antidote as soon as the interrogation had ended, but we were attacked and all of our stock has, presumably, been destroyed."

"But it's been at least a day since we were at the Tower," said Squall.

"Yes. I expect that Quistis has been trying to delay the effect of the poison using magic, which has been proven to put off the effects of certain toxins. However, it doesn't cure the person of their infection, merely postpones the inevitable."

"So what are you saying?" said Squall, comprehension dawning but not wanting to recognise the stark facts of the situation.

"I'm saying that Quistis is dying."

He stood, sunk in shock for a few moments, before speaking.

"…Because of the serum _you_ gave her."

"There's nothing I can do to change that," said Avira. "All I can say is that I'm sorry, and that it's simply the capacity I filled at the Shinra building. Much the same way as you have undoubtedly done questionable things working in a military organisation."

Squall glared dangerously at her for several long moments, but then dropped his gaze.

"What can you do for her?"

"I can keep delaying the effects of the poison, but I'm unable to cure it with these facilities."

"What do you need?"

She pursed her lips and mused. "I don't think there's anything I can do for her chemically. _Maybe_ a Full Cure materia would remove the poison from her body, but I'm not entirely certain. Basically, we need to find the strongest white magic we can come across, and then administer it."

Squall nodded, and then after several seconds raised his gaze to meet Avira's eyes.

"I'm not going to forget this," he said.

Avira met his gaze coolly. "I wouldn't expect you to."

Their interaction was interrupted by a warning klaxon, followed by Irvine's voice echoing around the ship.

"Galbadians, comin' in fast!"

Squall turned and ran to the cockpit.

* * *

"That's a crapload of Galbadians," commented Irvine as Squall entered the control centre of the vessel. Sure enough, on the horizon there were dozens of heavy attack airships, backed up by large naval cruisers surfing across the ocean beneath them. 

"Will they catch us?" asked Squall, already knowing the answer.

"Yeah, in about fifteen minutes," said Irvine, wrestling with the controls.

"Okay, I'm going to check on the others in the engine room," said Squall, and turned to leave.

"Hey, what's wrong with Quisty?" called Irvine over his shoulder.

Squall drew breath to reply, but hesitated a moment. "She's…fine. The pressure just got to her, is all."

"Good," declared Irvine. "I couldn't deal if something happened to her now, right after… If you see her, tell her to take it easy from me."

"…I will," said Squall, who then left.

Refusing to allow the guilt he was feeling from deceiving Irvine to distract him, he rushed to the engine room, where Zidane was hurriedly rewiring electrical equipment.

"Status," barked Squall.

"I'm almost finished…" said the younger man, worming his way underneath a large console Squall couldn't begin to guess the purpose of. He would have asked exactly how Zidane knew how to jury-rig an advanced airship to punch through a dimensional barrier, but he had neither the time nor the inclination to ask and then listen to the response.

Instead, he barked again: "Hurry, the Galbadians will be here in a few minutes."

"Will do," came the ever-cheerful response from the mess of exposed circuitry.

Reno tapped his drawn pistol nervously against his thigh, pacing the length of the holding area and staring into space. Tseng watched him with a typically detached stare.

"Why are you so nervous?" the older man asked finally.

"Because we could get blown up at any moment," replied Reno instantly.

"We'll either be blown up, or we won't. There's no use worrying about it," said Tseng. "The sooner you learn to be at one with your fate, the sooner you will become a more effective warrior."

"I don't wanna be a warrior, I just want to get paid," grumbled the redhead.

"And that is why you will never be better than me," concluded Tseng. "You do it purely for the financial benefit. You never seek to improve or refine yourself, you simply continue to exist."

"I'm _so_ better than you," returned Reno. "How else could I have filled you with holes at that TV station?"

"I'm still standing here drawing breath, am I not? Does that not suggest that despite the fact you won that minor exchange, I am ultimately the victor?"

"…Nope."

"Then your logic is more flawed than I first suspected."

The deck shifted marginally beneath them, and Irvine's voice once again crackled over the intercom.

"Hold on to something, guys. Here they come."

Reno took a firm grip of a nearby power conduit casing. Tseng remained exactly in the same position, standing in the centre of his cell.

"Didn't you hear him?" demanded Reno.

"I heard. I'll move when it becomes necessary."

"You haven't changed a bit."

"No, Reno…I've changed in more ways than are apparent."

"Yeah, yeah, I forgot, you can move water or whatever now. Big deal. I'm not going to trust you, so you can drop this calm exterior façade that all of the others are buying into. You're just waiting for your chance to get free and kill us all."

"That isn't true, Reno," said Tseng. He raised his fist, and Reno felt his stomach contract within his chest. He gasped, clutching at his torso with his free hand.

"Up to sixty percent of the body is made up of water," continued Tseng, moving his hand from side to side slightly. Reno felt as if his body were about to burst at the seams. "I could rip you apart from in here," he murmured.

Reno felt his grip being eased off the power conduit, and he started to walk unsteadily towards the mechanism that released the lock on Tseng's cell. He tried to pull against the influence, but he was overwhelmed.

His hand moved to rest on the lever that would power down the field that kept Tseng confined, but it didn't pull down on it.

After a few moments for dramatic effect, Tseng released his fist and gasped softly. Reno staggered back to the power conduit, his face creased with emotion. Tseng had clearly expended a great deal of energy to do what he had just done, as he looked more haggard as usual.

"You see, Reno? Don't tell me I'm staying in here for my own good. I have no master anymore, and I will be damned if my entire existence will be wasted by a fool like Rufus Shinra, or Golbez, or any of my former masters. The only thing I'm biding my time for is for my purpose to be revealed to me, and then I will be on my path again."

Reno said nothing, but stared half in fear and half in awe of his former superior.

* * *

"Are you alright back here?" asked Locke, stumbling into the doorway of the medical lab as the airship shook around them. 

"Yes," replied Avira, stowing away the last of the medical equipment. Several bottles rattled at a minor impact.

"What happened to Quistis?"

"She had an adverse reaction to something she was injected with at the Shinra building."

"Oh…is she going to be okay?"

She held Locke's gaze for a few moments, and then looked away. Locke received the message conveyed in that glance.

"Oh…"

"Yes. There isn't really anything else to be said about the matter."

Locke gazed sympathetically at the auburn-haired girl. She caught him staring at her.

"Don't give me any sympathy, this isn't the time for it." As if to aid her giving emphasis, the deck rattled once again.

"Alright then," said Locke. "What can I do?"

"You can start by securing any loose items so they don't injure any of us during any turbulence."

"Okay. I might not be able to cure Quistis of this disease, but I swore I'd protect her, and seeing as how you know what you're talking about, helping you is the best way to do that."

Avira frowned at Locke, but said nothing more.

* * *

"Number four," announced Irvine as an enemy missile streaked underneath them, narrowly missing its target thanks to the skill of the Ragnarok's pilot. 

"What kind of missiles are those?" asked Squall.

"Standard medium range air-to-air," replied Irvine.

"Reverse course," instructed Squall.

"_What?"_

"You heard me. Are we going to have another incident where you disobey my direct order?" Squall's words were like ice, and Irvine had to break his superior's gaze even after a brief moment maintaining eye contact. He shrank slightly in his seat and thumbed a few controls.

"Aye, aye, sir." he said.

"We can either spend the next ten minutes dodging missiles, possibly being shot out of the sky before we even enter close ranged combat, or remove their advantage and take the fight to them now. Fire up the laser."

He stalked to the intercom panel. "Zidane; status report."

"Nearly finished with the upgrades – we just need our jump fuel to break the barrier."

"Good. Out." The airship had righted itself and now faced the enemy fleet amassing over the ocean by the time he returned to the front of the cockpit.

He took the co-pilot's seat and keyed up the weapons display on the monitor in front of him. He activated the machine guns and waited until they achieved optimum range.

Two of the larger attack vessels veered away, obviously intending to circle around and encircle the Ragnarok while it engaged the smaller vessels straight ahead.

"Take us to the port ship," instructed Squall, and Irvine wordlessly obeyed. The airship to their left swung into the centre of Squall's display.

"_Fire," _he whispered.

Slugs of ammunition burst from the barrels built into the Ragnarok's belly and tore into the hull of the larger vessel. An alarm beeped on Irvine's display, and he swerved to avoid another missile. The naval ships below them started to fire a wall of flak, and the airship started to bounce and shake around them.

"Keep us away from those cruisers," called Squall, and Irvine just nodded in reply. On the radar screen, three smaller attack craft took up formation behind them and opened fire. Squall felt the Ragnarok shudder with the impact of machine gun slugs, but Irvine managed to outmanoeuvre them and soared out of their field of weapons fire.

"Laser's charged," said the sniper, and Squall keyed that to be included in his display.

"Take us closer to the other ship that tried to outflank us."

Irvine piloted the Ragnarok into an attack vector, and Squall squeezed the control that activated the laser. It shone out from the red vessel and sheared through the hull of their enemy like it was paper. The large ship fell apart in mid-air, and exploded violently when the laser found its engine. The Ragnarok flew through the explosion and debris, followed closely by another Galbadian attack squadron.

The proximity alarm sounded again, and Squall was nearly bounced out of his chair when a violent impact rocked the airship, and several of the display units, as well as the lights above them, flickered and died.

"Report!" he called over the tail end of the deafening explosion.

"Missile impact," said Irvine, wrestling with his controls. "Another one like that and we're a goner."

* * *

Zidane clambered over the mess that was the engine room and stumbled out into the corridor, leaning against the wall for support as the floor wobbled unsteadily beneath him. 

He reached the door to the holding area and keyed it open. Reno and Tseng were still inside, as he had left them, however they both looked more distraught than before.

"What happened to you guys?" he asked, but then almost immediately added, "Never mind. Tell me later."

"What's the problem?" asked Tseng.

"I've finished modifying the engines, but I've got nothing to put in them," said Zidane. "It's so frustrating; we can get out of here this second if we just had some jump fuel."

"I understand your frustration, Zidane," said Tseng, "But you must not allow your emotions to impair your thought process, because that is what will save us here." Zidane nodded at his words, and they both sank into silence.

Reno was staring at both of them in stunned disbelief. "What the hell _is_ it with you guys?" he managed. He received puzzled glances from both former Guardians. "I mean, one minute he's trying to kill you, and the next you're taking…anger management classes from him!"

"It's complicated," said Zidane. "And this isn't really the time."

"Why not? We're probably gonna die anyway. I mean, if…if Quistis couldn't think of a way out of this, then I doubt you guys can in the time we have left."

"That isn't true – I have a theory I'm waiting to discuss with young master Zidane. You were never quite this fatalistic before," commented Tseng. "I wonder if the aforementioned attractive blonde's newly developed critical state has anything to do with your sudden change in attitude?"

Reno ignored Zidane's faint smile, and pointed a finger at Tseng. "Screw you. A lot's changed since you died. Or didn't – whatever. Maybe I'm just coming to realise that there's not much point in living anymore. I mean, it's not so bad, dying, right? It'd beat all of this…this _shit_ that we keep having to deal with. I mean, this is how low I was – I took a job offer from someone I just met to work in a God damned Hippie Academy. Whoever heard of mercenaries who fight with peace and love, anyway? I'm sick and tired of this mess."

The airship shook from a series of minor impacts, and Reno looked at the ceiling.

"Yeah, that's it. Finish the job."

"You need to calm down," were the only words Tseng spoke, and Zidane nodded in silent agreement. Reno snorted.

"Okay – seriously. Tell me what the deal is with you two."

The former Guardians exchanged a glance, and then Zidane shifted slightly where he was standing. "I guess Tseng is, to me, what he was to you. He was doing the Guardian thing before I showed up, and he taught me how things worked."

"But he _tried to kill you._"

Zidane shrugged. "He was just doing his job. I can see into the part of his mind where being a Guardian lives when you become one; it isn't there anymore. Him and me are the same now. Might as well work with it."

"Can't you _hear_ yourself? You're saying you trust the guy who _shot you._"

"Look, Reno," said Zidane. "I don't care whether or not you believe or understand what's going on here. You don't have a choice – Tseng is out of the Order now, so deal with it."

"And you _believe_ that? He was cast out for a five minute conversation with his boss? I don't think so."

"You don't know Golbez very well then, clearly," said Tseng, ever so slightly bristling with the topic of his expulsion brought up.

"I'm never going to trust you, Tseng," spat Reno. "And that's fin –­ "

The Rangarok exploded around them, sparks showering from the ceiling and sending every man in the room to the floor. Zidane was knocked back, hitting his head on the same power conduit Reno had leant on for support. Reno himself landed awkwardly on the floor, the air rushing from his lungs. He looked around slowly, dazed.

The lights were out. Zidane was lying in a crumpled heap on the floor. He stopped suddenly. If the lights were out, then that meant the _power_ was out…

He twisted around and saw Tseng stand straight, surveying the room. The barrier keeping him inside the cell was gone.

"Finally," he muttered, and stepped from within his prison. He walked to where Zidane lay on the floor and knelt over the boy.

"Now then, let us finish what we started," he said, and drew one of Zidane's daggers from his belt. Reno's eyes widened and he tried to lift himself from the ground – not out of any particular loyalty to the monkey tailed boy, but to try and escape from his former boss – but the sudden movement was too much after hitting the floor, and he slumped back down, passed out.

* * *

Locke and Avira were in a similar state of disarray after the missile impact. Locke was first up, helping Avira to her feet. 

"You okay?" he asked, and she nodded in response. A quick glance sideways informed him that Quistis seemed to have passed through the ordeal unscathed.

"Come on," said Avira. "We need to get to the engine room."

She led him out into the corridor and further along, both of them feeling the wall to help them navigate the path to the engines.

When they finally reached the door, they opened it to find Tseng within.

He turned and smiled amicably at them. "Ah, there you are. I need your assistance with a small matter," he said, and revealed the long, dangerous looking blade in his hand.

Locke threw himself in between Avira and Tseng. "Don't you touch her!" he cried.

Tseng chuckled. "Oh, don't be melodramatic. I'm not going to harm you."

"Yeah…so you _say,_" flared Locke. "You hurt Avira before now, and I'm not going to let you do it again!"

Tseng sighed. "We really don't have time for this, so please excuse me."

He darted forward, allowing Locke to grab his blade arm. The dagger clattered to the ground, and Locke spun around and drove his elbow into Tseng's stomach. He heard the breath wheeze from the Turk, and emboldened, pushed backwards, driving Tseng into the wall.

Tseng, clearly having had enough of the exchange, drove his fingers into the nerve cluster in Locke's side, and the younger man went rigid, half collapsing to the floor. The Turk kept hold of the treasure hunter by wrapping his right arm around his chest, and with his free hand retrieved the fallen blade.

Avira, helpless to stop Tseng, appeared unable to even speak, when the door to the engine room burst open to reveal a very beleaguered-looking Reno with a piece of piping raised above his head.

"Let's finish this, Tseng!" he exclaimed.

Tseng sighed, shook his head, and raised the blade to Locke's head.

And cut a strand of his hair.

He released Locke to the floor gently, and walked to Avira while Reno stood in the doorway making strangling noises.

"May I?" asked Tseng, and Avira – nervously – leaned forward to allow Tseng easier access with the dagger. He repeated the same process, and he added Avira's hair to the two others in his possession.

"But…you said…"

"I said, 'Let us finish what we started,' meaning the discussion I had tried to instigate with Zidane before your impromptu emotional breakdown."

"What discussion?" asked Avira, as Locke groaned and groggily got to his feet.

"Extra-dimensional matter," he proclaimed, and held the three locks of hair before them. Noticing one was distinctly redder than the others, Reno felt the side of his head and groaned, feeling the slightly balder patch.

"Now I'll look ridiculous," he complained, and Tseng shot him a look.

"You've managed with it admirably before now, I shouldn't expect that to change."

"Will that work?" asked Avira as Tseng started to walk towards the contraption Zidane had rigged to the side of the fuel injection assembly.

"I have no idea," he said, dumping the strands of hair into the device. He strolled to the intercom and activated it. "Bridge, this is the engine room. You have a go to attempt breaking the barrier."

"_Tseng?"_ came the reply.

"That's my name," he said wearily. "Don't wear it out."

"Hair?" asked Reno, obviously confused. His eyes looked slightly unfocused, a drawback of having recently passed out, a state which he looked like he could re-enter at any moment.

"Yes – from you, Avira and Locke, the only three members of our little entourage to have both neither originated from this dimension, nor travelled extensively to other worlds."

"Okay," said Reno, and toppled backwards, unable to maintain consciousness any longer.

"I'd hold on to something," he advised Avira and Locke, grabbing Reno's feet.

* * *

"How'd he get to the engine room?" asked Irvine, and Squall shrugged. 

"I don't really care. Activate Zidane's modifications, and prepare to activate the boosters."

"I don't think we really have enough fuel for this," informed Irvine. "We either do this now, or we crash into the ocean."

"Duly noted," said Squall as the panel lit green to indicate the prepared status of the modifications. "Punch it."

The engines roared to a higher crescendo, and the two airship pilots were slammed back into their chairs. Two attack squadrons swerved to avoid colliding with the Ragnarok as it jumped forward suddenly with renewed acceleration.

"How fast do we need to go?" called Irvine.

"Just keep going until something happens," replied Squall, reassuringly.

They flew over one of the large attack vessels and further into the field of flak that threatened to quickly overwhelm them. The deck bounced beneath them violently.

Irvine kept keying the Ragnarok's speed higher, moving the indicator slowly so the sudden increase in G-forces didn't smear them into a paste on the rear wall.

The proximity alarm sounded again, and a missile streaked just in front of the cockpit.

"I hope this works!" shouted Irvine, and Squall didn't see it fit to reply.

A small fighter appeared, far ahead of them, and began an attack vector right towards them. A missile streaked out from under its nose, and it veered away from the approaching larger ship.

"Uh…Irvine?" called Squall, but the Ragnarok was travelling too fast to manoeuvre properly. The missile slammed home into the centre of the airship, devastating the cockpit. The glass in front of them shattered, and only that the two men had seen fit to strap themselves into their seats were they not sucked out with the sudden decompression. Air roared past them as it exited the ship, and Squall's world became noise.

When the smoke cleared, Squall could see directly in front of the airship again. The explosion had knocked out navigational ability, because the Ragnarok was bending slowly in an arc – downwards. The ocean swung into view, and with it the naval fleet below them.

He tried to call to Irvine, but the noise and effort of turning his head sideways even slightly was too much. The engines kept on increasing velocity, and the cruisers below them approached at an alarming rate.

A faint distortion made Squall frown, caught out of the corner of his eye, but his attention was distracted by another Galbadian fighter appearing in front of them and loosing another missile. It hit the side of the ship, and the large red vessel was saved from hitting the cruiser. The impact forced the Ragnarok to roll around and up, enough to save it from colliding with the cruiser it had been going to ram, but not enough to make it avoid the next one.

The Ragnarok smashed through the upper decks of the naval cruiser, sweeping all manner of debris along with it, and then hit the ocean in an explosion of light.

* * *

A/N: 

Hello all, Nisus here. I'm glad everyone is enjoying the story. There's a bit of an addendum to be made about the last A/N, Tyr said we'd be including FFXII, and...well, we're _not_. This is because we were to, but then changed our minds at the last minute because of spoilers, because it seems a lot of people haven't completed it yet, as well as various other reasons far too boring to go into. It's just that it accidentally got left on the A/N, so to reiterate, we're not going to be including FFXII (or XI, for that matter, because we've never played it).

Yes, Tyramir has nearly caught up to me in terms of what is written, so it seems like I'll have to be writing Final Trinity again! If you want to see what I've been doing while I've been waiting for him to catch up, and if you like Firefly, then you may be interested in reading my other fanfics, Void and Nightmare. That's Void first, because Nightmare is its sequel. Tyr has the links in his favourites.

So once again, glad you're still with us, thanks for reading and thanks to **Darth Necron, Macky, Rakunya, Brutal2003, Yuleen75, WolfenDragonfly, Ogro and Samurai Ming **for reviewing. You stay classy, San Diego.


	43. Disappear

**Previously in Final Trinity...**

Ordered by **Golbez** to track down and kill **Faris**, **Kain Highwind **and his entourage discovered that they were too late. **Kuja **had already completed his own mission, stealing a piece of **Void** itself from Faris, who had fallen into it during her battle with **X-Death**. Now, Kain has been ordered back to his own world, where he will travel to the **Land of Summoned Monsters** to try to get information on the **White Materia.**

Chapter Forty Three

Disappear

Seifer paced about the mirrored room, muttering swear words with every step. He hated waiting. Not only did he not have the patience for it, but he just didn't like the very idea. It meant that he was beneath someone, forced to sit in one place to fit a superior's whim. To waste his time while someone else whiled away their own.

And it wasn't just that. He hated this room, filled with crystals and mirrors and such. Always forcing him to look at his own reflection. He hated that more than anything.

"Golbez," he growled. "Where are you?"

"Here, as always, my knight."

Seifer whirled about, facing the shade of his master. Golbez, as always, was an indistinct, armoured form. The former SeeD wanted to drive his gunblade, Hyperion, through the man's face, ending his slavery then and there.

It'd been about six months now, his service to Golbez. After being betrayed and beaten by his own posse, Seifer had lain wounded, dying. Raijin had broken bones, but Fujin had made sure to cut flesh, and cut deeply. And then Golbez had appeared, with his promises of life and redemption and a cause to fight for. And it had sounded good then. It had quickly grown into thoughts of murder/suicide.

Even being allowed to see his own world again, albeit briefly, had tasted like ashes. Forced to work alongside Squall Leonhart, Seifer had been told to infiltrate his group and discover what his own world knew of the portals that were springing up at random, and then kill anyone who knew anything harmful. He would have completed that mission with ease, as well, if Gilgamesh hadn't shown up. Now Seifer was here, wondering what next 'adventure' he'd be sent on.

The shade stepped forward, coming out of the mirror, and Seifer shook his head at that. That was a new trick. Golbez had never done that before.

"Don't call me that," Seifer said.

"Why not?" Golbez said mockingly. "Isn't that what you've always been? My knight?"

Seifer nearly opened a portal then and there to leave. It was a trick he'd figured out on his own. While Gilgamesh and Tseng and Zidane were constricted to using only the Path to travel from world-to-world, Seifer had figured out how to manipulate the small portals he'd come across to travel about. He'd seen one of the Chaoses do it, and figured it out from there. He'd yet to fully test the ability, but he was sure that it would work. The only reason he'd held back was simply because Golbez had forbidden that sort of knowledge. Said it 'weakened the space between dimensions', and that was why the Guardians were charged with closing the portals they found.

"What do you want?"

"What I always want. For me to give you an order, and for you to obey unquestioningly. I have a task for you."

"Yeah," Seifer said, snorting. "What else is new? Who do I have to kill?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Kill. Assassinate. Murder. I've noticed a pattern to your little game and orders. Zidane's your scout, Gilgamesh is your warrior, Tseng's your fuckin' secret police, and I'm your killer. So, who am I killing?"

"Kain Highwind," Golbez answered simply. "He's proven a liability and a failure. I asked him to do one simple thing, and he failed utterly. Now Kuja has a piece of the Void. A dangerous weapon, one that has the potential to destroy _me_. Faris was never the goal. Destroying that piece of the Void was. And this kind of failure will not be tolerated. Kill him, and I shall replace him in the group that he now leads."

"I thought he was destined to 'save all the worlds' and all that stuff. Even written down on some fancy prophecy that some Paladin guy you really hate misinterpreted to think it was about himself."

"The prophecy never said that he would be a bumbling buffoon. It must speak of someone else. Kill Kain, and his followers, and perhaps the prophecy will be reinterpreted to set _you_ as the hero. Wouldn't that show up Squall?"

Seifer snorted. Golbez was trying to push his buttons again. He'd end up doing the task anyway, because he had no other choice, but not out of some sense that he'd become some great champion. He wasn't even sure it was possible for the prophecy to be 'reinterpreted' in such a way.

"What about Kain being one of your candidates for the Final Trinity? The one you were really pushing for. What, your vision of the future getting cloudy now?"

"I see everything, you dolt!" Golbez yelled. He paused, then composed himself. "Kain Highwind is a potential only. One whose potential has been found wonting. If you leave now, you may kill Fujin as a bonus."

_That_ got Seifer's attention. That she-bitch traitor was the reason why Seifer was stuck in this mess. And during his trip back to his old world, he'd wanted to find her and ... discipline her, but he hadn't been able to find the time to fit her into his busy schedule. But now he was being given _permission_ to kill her.

"What if the others in Kain's party... object?"

"Best that you kill Highwind and Fujin away from their companions. You would not want a battle with them."

"Why not?" Seifer asked. "I've looked in on them. They look like a bunch of clowns. Even without the elemental power you gave me as a Guardian--"

"Do _not_ underestimate them," Golbez snapped. "Highwind alone is your equal. Fighting more than him is folly. Do you know what each of them is even able to do to you? Cyan, despite his bluster, is one of the best swordsmen in any world, and now he is imbued with the spirit of Auron. Not even _I_ know what that might result in. Yuna is a hero of her own world, one that has saved it not once from a threat that would easily destroy you, but _twice_. Amarant, fool that he is, not only is an amazing fighter, but possesses enough intelligence and guile that has kept him alive as long as he has. The man is ... volatile, random. An unstable variable."

Seifer yawned. "Yeah yeah. And I suppose you're gonna detail out how Rufus Shinra's a danger to me as well."

"You do not display the regard that you should for Rufus. I personally chose him for Highwind's group for his brilliance. The man has a penetrating mind, and a deceitful nature. Oh, you would be able to defeat him in an upfront fight, but in a battle of wills... should that ever happen, you would easily be beaten. Then again, Seifer, you've never been known for your will. You may leave now."

Seifer, still unconvinced, began to open the way to the Path, to make his way to Highwind's location, when he realized Golbez had only listed six people. "What about the other guy? The one all dressed in black?"

"Oh, Shadow?" Golbez asked, amusement filling his voice. "I'm given to understand that he has made an oath to Fujin to kill you should you ever meet. Seifer... if you ever appear on Shadow's radar... You will be dead before you even see him. Good fortune, my foolish knight."

The way to the Path began to close, and as it did, Seifer heard Golbez murmur one last remark that left him wondering. "Enjoy the Island."

* * *

"This wasn't here before," Amarant said. 

Kain had pulled the group together in the engine room to discuss the latest bit of insanity that Golbez had decided to put them on. He'd wanted the meeting done on the bridge, but Cyan had insisted the engine room, claiming there were 'things he needed to get used to.' The old samurai hadn't elaborated, but Shadow had quickly briefed Kain on Cyan's fear of and distrust of technology. Kain had been about to begin when Amarant had interrupted him.

"What wasn't here before?" Kain asked.

"That," the monk said, pointing one large finger at an inscription above the glowing red dome in the floor. "I noticed it when you told me to get the cannon workin'. It wasn't here when my last crew had this ship."

"Then why didn't you mention it before?" Shadow asked.

Amarant shrugged, and leaned against the nearest bulkhead. Shadow looked about to press the issue, but Kain waved his hand at the assassin, telling him not to bother. It was Amarant's nature to be incurious about such things, and to expect others to feel the same. Instead, Kain squinted at the inscription, trying to make it out, but it was far too high up. Removing his helmet, he tossed it to Yuna, who caught it, and dropped his lance. The jump was a small one by his standards, a mere fifteen feet straight up. He caught an awning-like portion of a wall, and pulled himself onto it, then neatly inspected the engraving which was now only a few feet away from him.

_One born to a dragon,  
__Hoisting the light and the dark,  
__Arises high up in the sky to the still land.  
__Veiling the moon with the light of eternity,  
__It brings another promise to Mother Earth,  
__With a bounty and mercy._

"I'll be..." Kain said, recognizing the words.

They were the Mysidian Legend, a prophecy from his world. A prophecy about Cecil Harvey.

"What is it?" Yuna called from below.

Kain let go, falling to the ground, where he landed gracefully, considering his armoured bulk. Yuna handed him his helmet back, but he didn't put it on, instead holding it in the crook of his arm as he once again detailed his adventures with Cecil out to everyone. He concentrated more on his Paladin friend, explaining how the Mysidian Legend applied to him, and how he had saved the world from Zeromus.

"That doesn't explain why it's all over my ship," Rufus said.

"Your ship?" Shadow asked, an eyebrow raising.

Amarant grunted. "Semantics. Rufus has a point, though. What's a ship from my world doin' with a propechy on it from _Kain's_ world?"

"I thought you said this ship was from Kuja's?" Yuna asked.

"More semantics," the monk replied.

"No," Kain said. "She has a point. Your world has no connection to mine... but Kuja's obviously does. Or did. This ship can travel through worlds. You told me that it helped you get from the alien world of Terra back to Gaia. And even without it, Kuja seems able to travel between worlds just fine. And from what we've seen, he clearly has an agenda, one that spans across multiple worlds. What else do we know?"

"His enemy is Golbez," Rufus answered. "And the Cetra. Siegfried confessed as much with his dying breaths."

"And when were you planning on telling us this?" Shadow hissed.

"I'm telling you right now. Do try to keep up." Rufus smiled condescendingly, and continued, "I didn't think it pertinent before. I wanted to know more before coming with a proper conclusion. But from what I've heard, it seems that the Cetra and Kain's 'Lunarians' are one and the same. Which makes sense. In my world, the Cetra were a people who came from 'elsewhere' to settle the Planet. They were supposed to do their job, and move on. The legend is vague at best. But they were supposedly benevolent, and were making the world a peaceful and wonderful place where I'm sure children pranced around happily and everyone broke into song and dance, until Jenova appeared."

"Jenova?" Kain asked. "I've heard both you and Vincent mention Jenova now. Something to do with Sephiroth. You said she was his mother?"

"A genetic donor, only. His real mother was a woman named Lucrecia Crescent, and--"

"Wait. Lucrecia as in the woman who was killed in that little 'mage war' we had in the desert? She didn't look older than mid-twenties. How is that possible?"

"It's a long, complicated story," Rufus said with a sigh. "I'd rather not get into it. Suffice to say, she was easily twice as old as she looked. So was Vincent, for that matter. But we're getting a bit off topic.

"Jenova was the proclaimed 'enemy from the sky', but apparently, if you read between the lines a little bit in what little lore on the Cetra exists, it would seem that Jenova was, in some sense, one of them. A schism of some sort."

"Just like Zemus was with the Lunarians," Kain said. "And you think there's a connection between the two."

"Only fools believe in coincidence," came Rufus' snide response. "The remarkedly similar histories, the prophecy that belongs on Kain's world found on a ship that belongs in Kuja's, the Lunarians being related to – if not outright being – the Cetra... There are even more obvious clues. We all speak the same language. Most of us have the same type of currency. 'Cid' is a popular name on all our worlds! I know you've already done a census among us to discover what else might be similar."

"What are you getting at?" Shadow asked.

"An outside force," Rufus said. "There's no way for multiple worlds that are completely cut off from each other to exist and have so many similarities. Meaning some intelligent design has visited all these worlds and forced some sort of bizarre will upon everything. And considering that these Cetra seem perfectly capable of travelling through the dimensions at will – and worse, insist on _policing_ them on some level – they seem the most likely candidates."

"So, what?" Amarant said. "You think the Cetra are manipulatin' us?"

"They're Order," Rufus explained. "Jenova, Zemus, whatever or whoever you want to call it, are the break-off. The schism seems to be Chaos. Do you understand what this means?"

"The Cetra are good, and Jenova is evil?" Yuna asked.

"Oh, you naïve little twit. Order isn't inherently good, and Chaos isn't inherently evil. I should know. I brought order to my world, and people condemned me as evil. Order is nice and peaceful. It ensures certain privileges, and allows people to live comfortably and safely. But as a former tyrant myself, I know that order is just a tool into making the sheep think they're safe. Chaos is change. It's that dangerous thing that challenges authority and does what it wants. It's the spanner in the works, the fly in the ointment, the ragtag group of heroes that would dare defy an empire!"

Everyone stopped, stunned at the statement. It made sense to all of them. Were they themselves not instruments of chaos, daring to challenge the world the way it was, to make it the way they thought it should be?

It was Cyan who first spoke. "So, art thou saying that the Cetra art villains?"

Rufus growled in frustration. "I'm saying that an outside force has come in and manipulated and controlled our worlds to some extent or another. Maybe that was 'evil.' Or maybe it was 'good.' It's all subjective, and it makes you think... are we working for the villains?"

"Golbez did ask us to _murder_ a hero," Cyan said.

"And Golbez was never really a good guy," Kain agreed.

Amarant grunted, "What do you care, Rufus?"

The ex-President of Shinra blinked, taken aback by the comment. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. "You're right. I don't. I just couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the idiocy of you people in not connecting the dots."

Kain let that pass, interrupting anyone else from protesting by saying, "We probably are working for the bad guys. But right now, Sephiroth is an obvious danger. I think everyone can agree that Sephiroth does have to be stopped."

There were mutterings of agreement, and Yuna fiercely nodded her head. Even Rufus seemed content with that observation.

"I don't like Golbez. I'd rather not work for him again. But he seems to know what's going on better than any of us. Maybe it is because on some level, he's controlling things. No, it is because on some level, he's controlling things. And things have gotten out of hand for him, and now he needs us, people who know what we're doing and can actually get the job done, to fix it. Golbez has given us a mission, and it seems innocent enough. Which means, it's probably anything but. He wants us to find the White Materia."

"Then we're going to Rufus' world," Shadow said.

"No," Kain answered. "It's ... moved. On its own. No one knows where it is exactly. But apparently, someone in my world does. The Summoned Monsters, creatures of unspeakable power. Taking the information by force is pretty much impossible. So we're going to need to... bargain with them."

As one, everyone turned to face Rufus, who had a superior smirk on his face.

* * *

It took them another few hours to figure out how to do anything beyond basic flying of the airship. Rufus had earlier hooked the Black Materia into it, and the general theory was that should enable it to travel between dimensions under its own power. Of course, none of them were even positive what enabled the Black Materia to do its thing, much less the airship, so theory was sadly the predominant realm. 

Still, they preserved. Amarant's pre-existing knowledge of the airship combined with Yuna's know-how and Rufus' intellect allowed the three of them to further what they knew. The entire time the three of them grumbled, wishing for someone else to be in their place. Amarant found himself wanting Zidane to be there, who had far more interest in this kind of thing. Yuna wished for Rikku, while Rufus continuously griped that he was a businessman, and not a grease monkey like Cid Highwind or a scientist like Hojo.

It took them a day and a half to figure out how to fully integrate the Black Materia into the ship, and from there, how to use it to transport the entire vessel to another world. Their first stop was back to Rufus'. While Golbez had ordered them to Kain's, Rufus insisted there would be a few things he needed. Namely, a freshly laundered suit, more ammunition for both himself and Yuna in case there was to be more fighting ahead, enough food to last the crew a year, boxes of currency, extra clothes, barrels of water, firewood, lanterns and flashlights, camping equipment, jewels and artwork for possible bribes, and in case things got sour, several crates filled with explosives.

The entire trip, Shadow had been forced to watch Rufus like a hawk. Neither he nor Kain trusted the man, and left to his own devices, both men were certain that Rufus would have come with an armed contingent to take over the Invincible along with the items he insisted on procuring. Oddly enough, Rufus didn't do anything suspicious, which naturally made Shadow even more edgy. The man was up to something, but he wasn't sure what. Just to be safe, he fully inspected every single crate Rufus had brought on board, and even strip searched the man. Rufus took it all in stride, even offering a snide remark of, "Oh, don't you trust me?"

That, naturally, made Shadow trust him less. But at that moment, there was nothing he could do. As long as Rufus was helping, killing the little snot would just be counter-productive.

And so, the next day, they found themselves in a large, underground cavern system with an airship, just outside the Land of Summoned Monsters.

* * *

Seifer watched Highwind and his group of idiots make their way through the caves. He knew where they here headed, but he didn't know why. Golbez had always said this area, the Land of Summoned Monsters, was off limits. It was too dangerous, filled with beings of unimaginable power. But they obviously hadn't come here on their own. Golbez must have ordered them here. And that made things tricky. 

Seifer didn't like 'tricky' things. He hated thinking his way through situations, but something didn't add up. Worse, the cave was hot, and the sweat running down the back of his neck annoyed him, causing him to be frustrated. He hated thinking while angry. Then again, he had never been much of a thinker to begin with. But still, he thought, and questioned. Golbez liked to play his games, manipulating pieces on a board. Was this a set up for Kain? Or was it a set up for Seifer?

'Enjoy the Island,' Golbez had said. What did _that_ mean? Tseng would probably know. But rumour had it that Tseng had been kicked out of paradise, along with Zidane. If the former SeeD tried to contact the Turk, it might mean Seifer's expulsion. And people who Golbez expelled rarely lived long.

So, Seifer was willing to play good soldier boy. If it meant killing that bitch, Fujin, he'd even trade in his coat if Golbez asked for it. Maybe even Hyperion, his gunblade, as well. He'd suffer anything just to show that little slut up.

He could see her now, travelling in the middle of Kain's pack. She was carrying a crate of supplies. So was Highwind, and Amarant, and Cyan. Rufus was up front, ahead chatting with Yuna. The woman seemed bored, but Rufus appeared to be enjoying himself immensely. No one was paying attention. All Seifer had to do was use his powers as a Guardian, dip into the earth with his hand, and made the rock shake a little. The roof would cave in, and everyone would be dead. It was the only alternative for him. Earth was, after all, a very clumsy power, meant for shaking and ground-splitting quakes. There was no finesse, and little control. It just smashed things. And it would be a real pity if it smashed all of Kain's group.

Seifer smiled to himself as he would be forced to explain it to Golbez.

"There was no choice," he would say. "I had to kill them all to get to Highwind."

That would show Golbez up nicely. How _dare_ he say that Seifer Almasy couldn't take on this group of jokers all by himself? He'd managed to take on Squall and his lackeys easily enough. How were these people any different?

Still, something didn't seem right to Seifer. The entire order stunk. Not that he had any problems with killing Kain, but something was wrong. Something was... off. Not just the order, or the obvious set up, but the way it was delivered. The way the order had been--

Seifer paled suddenly. His mind was racing, but he realized two things at once. He knew what was wrong with the order, but more importantly, more life-threatening... he realized that Shadow was nowhere to be seen. And the hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end.

The SeeD wasted no time. He whirled about, swinging his gunblade in the – hopefully – empty air behind him. The blade was stopped dead in its tracks by a pair of daggers.

"Seifer Almasy, I presume?" Shadow hissed. "I've heard _so much_ about you."

* * *

Fujin, holding a box filled with various valuables, growled as she stumbled over yet another rock. She didn't like being underground. Sounds tended to bounce every which way, messing with her hearing. Strange gasses filled caverns, screwing with her sense of smell. And it was dark. So what little sight she did have was nearly useless. 

And worse, she was stuck carrying this stupid box filled with stupid treasure designed to bribe some stupid monsters into giving them a location for a stupid Materia so that idiot Golbez would be happy.

If there were two things Fujin didn't like about her new posse, they had to be this driving need to quest for some rare Materia, and Golbez ordering them around. And Rufus' arrogant attitude. And Kain's dismissive one. And Shadow and his stuck-up 'I'm so bad I killed my emotions' stance. And Amarant in general. He stunk. A lot.

Up ahead, Rufus was flirting with Yuna. She seemed to be trying to ignore him. He had insisted that she be at the lead with him. Something about 'appearances.'

"A good leader always takes up the lead, and always has a beautiful woman beside him," Rufus had explained. "He doesn't always have to hide behind an assassin who's scouting ahead."

Everyone had caught the shot at Kain for what it was, but no one – not even the Dragoon himself – said anything in response. Still, that hadn't stopped Rufus from sending Shadow to scout ahead anyway. After all, not doing so was foolhardy.

Fujin didn't understand why Kain didn't slap Rufus around a bit for that. He'd deserved it for the remark, if nothing else. It was the way her old posse had done things. Then again, her old posse had betrayed her. But did that make them wrong?

She could hear something in the endless catacombs, something echoing off everything. The clash of steel on steel. She shook her head. It couldn't be. The only thing that lived down here according to Kain were Summoned Monsters, his world's version of her Guardian Forces. And from the way he described them, none of them used steel weapons. She almost dismissed it as the caves playing with her senses... but something seemed off.

Steel hit steel again. And then... a small bang.

"The hell was that?" Amarant asked, jerking his head about.

"A rock, mayhaps," Cyan answered. "Fallen from some ledge and to the ground below."

Still, Amarant hearing it brought the group up short. Rufus even silenced himself from his small talk to listen as well.

Steel hit steel. And then, the bang again.

"That sounded almost like gunfire," Yuna said.

But Fujin knew what it was. She could feel and hear the blood rushing just behind her ears. Something loud crashed, and she jumped nearly a foot back when she realized it'd been the box she'd been carrying.

"Fujin?" Kain asked. "Are you all right?"

She looked about, terrified. She knew that sound. She _knew_ that sound. She'd heard it hundreds of times. It was the sound of a gunblade striking, then firing. And not just _any_ gunblade. It was Hyperion. Seifer's gunblade. She didn't question it. Didn't doubt. She'd been dreaming nightmares of that sound for too long now. Seifer somehow was here, in this world. He'd come to find her at last.

"SHADOW," she rasped, panicked, truly scared for the black-clad assassin. "TROUBLE."

Cyan's sword was out in an instant, and he was looking about. Everyone else seemed to be searching for the danger as well, but Fujin was already moving.

* * *

Seifer managed to parry Shadow's initial attack, but only barely. The man's speed was blinding, and his strikes continuously came from two different directions, one dagger leading low, the other high, one wide to the right, the other circling in from the left. If Shadow faced a lesser opponent, he would have been dead in the first exchange. 

But Seifer Almasy was no stranger to combat.

He not only parried the routine Shadow threw at him, he counter-attacked. Hyperion, its blade long, but thin, danced through the air with amazing grace, almost tapping Shadow's attacks aside and then lunging. The assassin, wielding weapons not designed for extreme parrying, was forced to throw his body this way and that, dodging the blade as it stabbed.

Seifer smiled ruefully to himself. Golbez was right. Shadow _was_ good. But he didn't live up to the hype. But then, against Seifer Almasy, no one ever did.

Seifer pressed the advantage, pushing himself forward, driving his blade further with greater strength and speed. Shadow was immediately forced completely defensive, his advantage completely defeated. By going all out at the beginning, using both daggers to attack, he'd left himself open and off-balance. A situation Seifer now planned to fully exploit.

"I heard you were good, Shadow," Seifer said with a smirk. "But you're just a punk."

He finished the comment with a downward slash, putting all his strength into the hit. Both Shadow's daggers came up in a cross, blocking the blade. Still the force of the attack pushed the blades down until Hyperion was nearly touching Shadow's shoulder.

That's when Seifer pulled the trigger.

A loud bang issued, and the bullet from Hyperion bit into the assassin's shoulder. Flesh visibly tore as the bullet entered and exited, spraying blood. To his credit, Shadow didn't scream, only winced. His block faltered, and Seifer pressed down, determined to cut his opponent down where he stood.

The man was quick, and the former SeeD only managed a glancing blow on the sash the man wore about his waist. The fabric tore, and to Seifer's surprise, a handful of shuriken which had been stored there tumbled to the ground, clattering about. He tried not to let that distract him too much, and made another cut, this one horizontal, meant to take the assassin across the belly.

But suddenly, Shadow was no longer there. The block was disengaged, and the assassin shifted to the left. One foot came out underneath Seifer's attack, kicking him in the side, doubling the man over, allowing Shadow to skitter away, ducking into cover of darkness.

Seifer swore. The cave was hot, and he had to admit, Shadow was good. Anyone else caught with a surprise and a wound like that would've fallen quickly. Planting Hyperion into the ground, blade first, he shrugged off his jacket, tossing it to his feet, and then kicked it away.

The assassin was wounded. Meaning, Seifer had the advantage. He just had to pin the man, get him out in the open. While hiding, Shadow could get away, maybe alert his companions. Seifer had to stop him from doing just that.

Pain flared up the side of his head, and he staggered. He felt nauseated, wanted to throw up. It took him what felt like a full minute to even realize that he'd just been hit, to register the clatter of the rock on the ground. The ground that had been thrown at him, which had hit him in the temple.

His vision doubled, he spun about, Hyperion now back in his hand, held out defiantly, looking for an opponent to cut.

Something _whissked _behind him, and he immediately turned to face the sound. Only darkness stood where he stared. To his side, a sudden scratching sound. He whirled about again, but once more, there was nothing. A _clack_ to his left, but instead of turning to look at it, he bolted to his right, charging at a nearby stalagmite for cover. Two could play this game. He'd hide just as Shadow was, and throw some rocks to make phantom noises.

He turned to get behind the large rock, still moving at full speed, and nearly ran face-first into a pair of daggers. Pure reaction was the only thing that saved him as he purposely threw himself backwards, landing forcefully on the ground, jarring his tail bone. Pain lanced up his back, but he kept moving, rolling to his left. The sound of steel hitting stone right where he had lain only brought the reality of the danger to the forefront of his mind. Shadow had thrown one of his daggers where Seifer had been, hoping to finish the fight then and there.

Again instinct saved him once more as Seifer raised Hyperion in an upward swing, and it neatly parried a slash that would have taken his eyes. He pulled the trigger as he did, and another gunshot sounded. Luck was on Seifer's side. The bullet missed Shadow entirely at first, but instead _dinged_ off a nearby stalagmite. The initial shot didn't hit. The ricochet did.

Shadow staggered as hot metal slammed into his side, and the assassin was forced to retreat again. But Seifer knew the fight wasn't over. He began to play scenarios in his head as he skittered backwards. If he stayed, he _might_ beat Shadow. But there was the very real chance that he couldn't. The man was wounded, and Seifer only injured superficially, but some of that had been luck. And, odds were, Kain and his group of flunkies has probably heard the gunshots. He had more important things to do. The idea of killing Kain and Fujin was out of the question. He knew the truth now. Or at least suspected it.

That was it. Run away, live to fight another day. That was what he had to do. But there were no ways to the Path in the Land of Summoned Monsters, or the surrounding area. Probably something they had done, and one of the many reasons why the Guardians were never supposed to go there.

He had to make a portal. He'd seen one of the Fiends do it once. He could do it. Screw the rules.

"SEIFER!"

He only had time to turn, utter "Oh shit" and duck reflexively, narrowly dodging Fujin's pinwheel. By the time he recovered, he looked up to see the blue and white form of Fujin hurling herself directly at him. There was no chance to even raise Hyperion to cut her down. She was abruptly on top of him, the two of them crashing to the stony floor. He tried to roll her off, but her nails dug into the sides of his face, cutting in. He howled in pain, bucking this way and that. She was too close, he couldn't bring his gunblade into play. So instead, he punched her across the face as hard as he could. In response, she spit in his eye. Half-blinded, he managed to roll her over, head butting her firmly on the nose as he did. There was a wet crunch, but instead of her letting go, she spat in his other eye and kneed him hard in the crotch. Blinded and gasping in pain, Seifer dropped Hyperion. As he did, Fujin did to him as he had to her, bringing her own forehead to bear as a weapon against him, firmly breaking his nose as he had just done to her.

He wanted to wipe the saliva out of his eyes. He wanted to wipe the blood away. He wanted to get the crazy bitch off of him. Grasping about his side, he knew he had to get Hyperion back. He jerked about spasmodically as Fujin pummelled his sides, trying to avoid her fists. His hand found something soft, and he clenched it hard. It took him a second to realize it wasn't his gunblade, but rather, his coat. Even better.

He immediately had it up and wrapped it around her head. By feel, he managed to get past her struggles and tie the sleeves around her throat, jerking them tightly. Immediately Fujin's fists stopped lashing at him and began pulling at the coat, trying to get it off. Hurriedly wiping his eyes clean, he smirked at her, and gave her a firm punch to the face. She kept moving, but not as quickly. He moved to give her another punch, but movement to his left stopped him. He put his fists up defensively in a block, but not even that could stop the power from an uppercut punch from Amarant Coral.

Seifer felt ribs crack as he was lifted bodily from the sheer force of the hit, landing with tremendous impact on the cavern ground.

"Nobody hits the albino bitch except me," Amarant growled.

Seifer, at his limit, lifted a hand and pulled a Fire spell from his storage, letting loose a ball of flame directed at Amarant's head. The monk lifted an arm, took the brunt of the spell, and then with his other hand, launched his own fireball. Seifer was already moving, albeit slowly, dodging the returned magic, and running – headlong into two pistols.

He tried to give his best grin at them, and saw a female face behind them that belonged to who he assumed could only be Yuna.

He turned the other way, and found a spear pointed directly at his throat. Highwind.

A katana blade rested on his shoulder from behind, and Seifer suddenly knew that Cyan had to be back there, waiting for him to so much as try anything.

Seifer wanted to laugh at the whole situation, but knew he couldn't. His wounds were too much, the pain too fierce. For a second, he even briefly considered calling up his elemental power to cause an earthquake, or maybe a cave-in. But that'd kill him, too, and as much as he'd like to kill Fujin, he didn't want to take himself with her. No, that privilege was only for Squall Leonhart.

"I surrender," Seifer said with a smirk. "Guess you gotta take me prisoner. That's what heroes do, right?"

"We're not heroes," Kain said simply.

"I found Shadow!" came Rufus' voice from the darkness. "He's bleeding!"

In that one second, everyone shifted their glance. Seifer seized it. Opening a portal was similar to opening the door to the Path. It felt a little different, and you had to grab hold of one of the wounds between dimensions and forcefully tear it. It was a mental struggle, one that Seifer poured his will into. Using his power, he wrenched hard on a tiny speck that was barely there, a tiny opening that looked like a mote in the air, and turned it into a gash the size of a man. Everyone's attention jumped to the portal. All eyes were now completely off him.

Then, pulling on his elemental power of Earth, he shook the cave.

Rocks began falling every which direction, and the floor split in two. People tumbled to every which side, but Seifer remained on his feet. He staggered towards the portal, a smile on his face.

A sudden jolt made him fall forward, landing on the ground, scraping his hands bloody as he braced himself against the impact. It's what saved his life. Where his head had been, Hyperion sliced. Standing again, Seifer bolted for the portal as quickly as he could. Fujin, his jacket still draped over her shoulders, her face blood, his own gunblade in her hand, charged at him, screaming unintelligibly.

With a smirk, he dove into the portal, to freedom.

With a howl, she dived in after.

And then, the portal closed.

Author's Note:

Ha ha! Check that out! Mildly on time! **WolfenDragonfly, Count D'Ainiac, Brutal2003, Darth Necron, Alpha2Omega, Samurai Ming, RyougaZell, Ogro** and **Omega Gilgamesh. **Extra thanks go to **LadyDeathWish **for her help choreographing the fight between Shadow and Seifer, and putting up with my crap. : P


	44. Now For Something Completely Different

Chapter Forty Four

And Now For Something Completely Different

Tifa breathed the cool mountain air of her home town of Nibelheim and released it contentedly. A glance backwards from the ridge she stood on revealed the sleepy town far below her, with the shell of the Shinra Mansion the only reminder of a darker time.

Since they had destroyed Shinra, all of the reactors had started to slowly shut down and as a result, the world was slowly starting to revert back to the old ways. Cities like Midgar that relied entirely upon the energy produced by the Mako plants were hit hardest, but towns like Nibelheim that existed on the fringe of the civilised world weren't so far gone that they could go back to the way things were. Smoke rose from fireplaces that had long since lain dormant.

She turned as the memory of the ugly matter of the entire town being burned down and nearly all of its inhabitants slaughtered started to surface, as if removing the sight of the town would stop the insipid flow of the thought, but naturally it was too potent to be quelled.

Sephiroth had killed everyone she grew up with; she and Cloud were the only survivors of that massacre; however, she wasn't even aware he was there. Years later when they had met again, she was amazed to discover that Cloud could recount exactly what happened despite his apparent absence from her memory. It wasn't until she and Cloud fell into the Lifestream she discovered the truth. There, she was privy to Cloud's subconscious mind and together they unearthed what really happened.

Cloud was a mere Shinra guard accompanying two of Shinra's finest. Ultimately, Cloud confronted Sephiroth within the Mako reactor they had been sent to investigate after Zack and Tifa, acting as their guide, were overwhelmed by the powerful warrior. Sephiroth was cast down into the Mako Pit and was presumably killed, however years later he returned and was defeated again by Cloud, Tifa and the rest of their band.

But AVALANCHE, having saved the Planet, had little left to live for after they had achieved what they set out to accomplish. They all eventually drifted apart after spending some time in Kalm. Cid to Rocket Town, Yuffie to Wutai, Red to Cosmo Canyon – although when she stopped by no-one had seen him for several months – and Vincent to who only knew where. Barrett – amazingly – managed to settle down to raise Marlene in Kalm. Reeve tried to set up shelters and aid centres for the slums in Midgar, and Tifa helped him for a while, but that's when she heard about Cloud.

He had started to relapse into the coma she found him in when she went to Mideel. She guessed it was something to do with the massive amount of Lifestream they were close to when it appeared to repel Meteor, but she had no way of knowing for sure – with Mako energy gone, so was electricity, and so the advanced medical facilities they could have used in Midgar were dark and silent. She tried to care for him as best she could, taking him to the aid shelter she worked at in Midgar, but she was forced to watch, helpless, as the man she knew fell away from the conscious world.

And then one day he was gone. He had a habit of wandering off, confused, but Tifa always managed to find him in the local neighbourhood. But not that day. She looked everywhere she could think to look, asked everyone she could ask, and recruited as many people she could to aid with the search, but the simple fact of that matter that he was simply…gone. Vanished.

Eventually she reconciled herself to the fact she was most likely never going to know what happened to her childhood friend. A lesser person would have been embittered by the fact that certain members of AVALANCHE not only didn't assist her, but likely didn't even know that Cloud was gone, but not Tifa. She closed the proverbial book and ended that particular chapter of her life.

But…what now?

She had returned home, trying to find some kind of closure and also a sense of purpose, but none had seized her. All of the actors Shinra had hired to live in the reconstructed Nibelheim to cover up the town's destruction had deserted the moment their pay cheques started to bounce, and a perfectly good town was just too good an opportunity to pass up for some people.

The town boundaries were increasing, new buildings being constructed, and Tifa found that she enjoyed the company of the new settlers very much. They had taken her in and listened raptly to her tale of the town's original destruction – an ill publicised event – and to her story of how she saved the Planet. But…although they were similar, they were not the people she had grown up with and around, and she had soon embarked on her trek up the mountain amid complaints for her safety. But, as she reasoned, she _had_ been the guide for this area once, and they let her go after stocking her with supplies.

With a triumphant crunch, the gravel beneath her foot compacted and she stepped onto the peak of the mountain. Slightly breathless, she turned to survey the landscape that stretched away from her.

The Gold Saucer rose imperiously to the east, and although Tifa knew that Dio had undoubtedly ran into power supply issues, he was equally certain to have found some way around it. He wasn't really after money – what use was money in the world they now lived in? – but simply wanted to provide an escape to the people.

She could see even as far south as Gongaga, which was also enjoying an increased development after refugees flocked from the larger, defunct cities.

And much closer to her present position, the abandoned Mako Reactor lay brooding below. Since it had been shut down, and because of the increase in hunting parties the higher population of Nibelheim afforded, the population of monsters had been in decline in the two years after Shinra's defeat. Seeing an important place of her past, Tifa was reminded of her purpose for coming up to the peak of the mountain.

She sat down, cross-legged and began to meditate, hoping to figure out just what she wanted, but before she could find her focus a blast of warm, putrid air destroyed her concentration. She pulled a face and wafted her nose, and opened her eyes.

She was staring into the jaws of a hideous creature, the likes of which she had never seen before. Startled, she jerked her head back just as the monster snapped its jaws, and kicked against its flank, rolling backwards and up into her feet in a combat stance Zangan had taught her.

The creature – which vaguely resembled a man – was the ugliest thing Tifa had ever seen. It stood like an ape, but it had no head to speak of – its eyes and jaws were set into its neck. She raised her fists and prepared to fight.

It launched itself at her and wrapped its arms around her, catching her by surprise. They stumbled back and toppled down a slope, kicking, biting and screaming all the way as loose dirt and gravel cut into Tifa's flesh and showered around them.

They hit a flat outcrop with a thud, and Tifa slammed the thing's torso – as it had no head – into the stone beneath. It wheezed and slammed her sideways so she rolled away.

It was up in an instant, but Tifa had found another mode of attack. It staggered back when the rock she through hit it squarely in the – face? Neck?

Pressing the offensive, Tifa roundhouse kicked it square and dead centre, and it fell backwards, critically, off the side of the ridge they stood on the edge of, and it clattered down the face of the mountain leaving a breathless and slightly bruised Tifa to observe its descent with satisfaction.

A roar around the side of the rock face behind her stopped her silent self-congratulation. Fearing the worst, she clambered along the ridge and revealed a sight that chilled her blood.

A veritable horde of monsters were gathering beyond, some that she recognised, and some that she didn't. The sheer number of them took her aback, simply for the reason that they hadn't been there earlier when she ascended the mountain using that very incline. Even more peculiar, but at the same time answering her question, monsters were appearing seemingly from nowhere through an oval of almost invisible, shimmering energy.

"What _is_ that…?" she mumbled to herself.

"It's a portal, my dear," answered a voice beside her.

Startled almost out of her skin, she jumped backwards and tried to bat away whoever stood aside her but all she met with was air.

An unfamiliar man smiled at her as her fist passed through his body. "I'm afraid that won't help you. I'm quite insubstantial."

"Who are you?" she demanded. "What is going on here?"

He smiled to himself, a smile that seemed perversely subtle when it was partially concealed under such severe armour. The points and jagged edges emerging from the polished steel looked like they could maim or incapacitate someone if he turned around too quickly or bumped into someone walking down the street.

"My name," he began dramatically – as if he got to say that countless times and never got tired of hearing his own voice – "Is Golbez."

"Okay, and my second question?"

"Well…that's a very long involved story. One I'm not sure we have time for, in view of your impending doom over there." He jerked his thumb in the direction of the amassing monsters.

"You brought them here?" demanded Tifa.

Golbez chuckled. "No, no, no, my dear. Don't be so arrogant as to think I would summon an army of monsters just to kill _you._ No. I am merely an observer in what promises to be your final moments on this earth."

Tifa was taken aback by this newcomer's callous and sadistic comments, and didn't quite know what to say.

Golbez smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry. I'm sure against such a massive horde of monsters, you won't last for very long. They'll tear you apart before you feel anything, most likely."

With these words, Tifa stepped forward indignated, and spat, "I don't care who you are, but I'm leaving now, and you can go to hell."

"Sprightly," observed Golbez to himself as she walked away. "I like that in a woman."

Mounting the crest of the ridge that separated Golbez and the monsters, Tifa wasted no time in activating her Fire materia and blasting the largest monster she could see off the side of the mountain. A dozen hungry eyes were instantly upon her, and she crouched, ready for the coming struggle.

A small hound-like creature bounded at her, immensely large jaws slavering over foot long teeth, but that too was met by a magical wave that swept it from the peak.

She jumped down to meet the oncoming wave of flesh hungry creatures, and the first within range received a well placed kick to the face. She swung into the next monster's path, pummelling it with her fists.

She was enraged by the way the insubstantial Golbez had taunted her, and had he been of physical form, then undoubtedly it would not be the monsters receiving her physical abuse. She kept building up momentum and anger, and eventually crimson light shone from around her and she allowed herself to be lost to the pure combat form of her Limit Break.

She didn't consciously make any moves of her own, more that she allowed them to come, unrestrained, from inside her, using the state of unrefined emotion to almost magically fuel her heightened combat readiness. She found herself running across rock faces, flipping backwards, lifting monsters bodily off the ground and performing all manner of incredible physical feats.

When she finally burned out of the Break, she came to a mess of monsters dead around her, but an equal and increasing number of ones still alive and baying for her flesh.

They seemed to sense her sudden weakness and all bounded towards her at once. Several met with grisly deaths after being blasted with magic, however soon Tifa was overcome at close quarters.

She grabbed a monster nearby that looked like jungle cat with enormous tendrils waving from its jaws, and wrenched its neck as hard as she could. It gave a crunch, quivered once and lay still, but the momentary lapse in concentration it cost her allowed another monster to slash across her back. She cried out in pain, feeling the air instantly hit her exposed flesh through the sheared fabric, and angrily lashed out behind her, connecting solidly with her fist. Another creature bounded across the body of the fallen cat and swiped at her with massive claws. It connected solidly, and staggering backwards, she tried to use the momentum to her advantage, sweeping into a sideways flip that culminated in kicking an approaching monster.

Unfortunately, her last acrobatic display took her a little too close to the edge of the mountain. Her left foot scraped the very edge of the ridge, and she stumbled, trying to maintain her balance. A new monster sprung at her and Tifa twisted, throwing it off into thin air, but that movement brought her right foot to the edge. She waved her arms, desperately trying to keep herself on solid ground, but one of the multitudes of opponents took the opportunity to slam her chest with whatever served as its limb.

As she fell back into space, Tifa closed her eyes and tried to figure out what she was supposed to think of right before she died. She thought of her family; AVALANCHE; Cloud; Aeris; tried to fill her mind with as many positive images and thoughts as she could, and she did so for what felt like eternity, before she realised that the air wasn't blasting away at her body as she expected it would be.

Tentatively, she opened one eye and saw that the ground beneath her – several thousand feet beneath her – wasn't getting any closer.

A pair of feet strode past her, and she looked up to see a very amused man.

"I never get tired of that," smirked Golbez.

"What…?" began Tifa, but he cut her off.

"Sorcery. I'm keeping you there through sorcery," he stated. "And depending on the result of this parley, you might end up mangled on the ground you see far below you."

He waved his hand, and Tifa dropped suddenly. Terror rose up from her stomach, but after six inches, she felt like she had hit solid ground, and rose shakily to her hands and knees. Behind her, the monster horde slavered and bayed for her blood.

"…What _are_ you?" she managed, unconsciously continuing the natural progression of questions she had began earlier.

"I already told you, I am Golbez. To some people, that is explanation enough, however to most, they are unaware that my unique…_niche_ even exists, so I will give you the benefit of the doubt and explain everything to you fully."

"Appreciated," stammered Tifa, trying her best not to look down, but reminded of what was below her by the wind swirling around her from all directions. She most notably felt it coming from beneath her, as it didn't usually do that. Golbez seemed unfazed that he was standing on nothing but…well, nothing.

"Where shall I start…?" muttered Golbez. "Ah, the monsters. Let's lead into things slowly. The monsters – have you ever heard of something known as the Lunar ...?" Not even waiting to see Tifa's perplexed expression, he waved his mailed fist dismissively. "Never mind. Naturally you haven't. I apologise. We've gotten off to a shaky start. Allow me to begin anew."

He breathed once, slowly, and then began to speak. "This world is but one world that exists in the universe. However, much in the same way that there are other planets within space, there are also other universes; parallel dimensions, if you will."

He paused, as if waiting for an incredulous cry of dismissal, however Tifa just nodded after a few moments.

"Okay."

Golbez was taken aback slightly. "I'm sorry…'okay'? Normally people outright brush me off as a fool at that stage of the exchange."

"I'm floating a few thousand feet off the side of a mountain after fighting a horde of monsters that appeared out of thin air, talking to an insubstantial man. At this point I'm willing to take a few things on faith."

"Ah. Yes. Quite." He considered what fact to relay next. "The monsters you see behind you have travelled here through a portal from another dimension – it is one of many portals that lead between the dimensions and it is essentially a tear in space that allows travel between the worlds. In the dimension the monsters arrived from, a series of events led to a device being activated. This device summoned a stream of monsters from that world's moon, and the force of that stream levelled a city. That portal was formed when the massive stress the lunar event placed on reality splintered it and ripped it open. They have spilled over through that portal into this world, where they found you."

Tifa's mind was slowly beginning to unfreeze and function again, albeit slowly. "Is that why I can't recognise some of them?"

Golbez seemed very pleased with Tifa. "Precisely," he congratulated. "You're getting it much more expeditiously than all the others."

"And I take it you don't give everyone you meet this little speech."

"Precisely right again," beamed Golbez, bordering on being patronising. "You see, I belong to – and lead – a highly specialised group that sets about to prevent this sort of thing from happening." He indicated the group of monsters behind them, which was only getting bigger. "We are known as Dimensional Guardians, and we safeguard the integrity of the various worlds."

"Why are you telling me this?"

Ignoring her, Golbez continued with his dialogue of one. "Recently, a very troublesome young man has been responsible for…well, we won't get into the fine points just yet, but two of my number have been dispatched to dispose of he and his menagerie and both have been lost to me."

"He killed them?"

"No, much worse – he polluted their minds against me, forcing me to shun them from my order."

"How many of you are there?"

"Well, originally five. But now…it's just me and another. We've run into a few impediments recently."

"Sounds like dangerous work."

"You're right. It is."

"What happened the others?"

"Oh, one made in a silly mistake on a mission I dispatched him on. Entirely his own fault, really. The other two performed against my orders; instead of steering the troublesome group back home, they allowed them into yet another dimension, polluting the worlds with their influence. You see, it would be deplorable of us to allow people from one dimension to travel among the others, because it upsets the natural flow of events in that world. An outside influence, if you follow. That person has no place in any dimension but her own, and travelling among the different worlds just upsets the balance of things."

"Like if someone went and provided advanced weaponry in a world where they use sticks to club each other?" asked Tifa, and Golbez nodded encouragingly.

"Precisely. And that's what was happening right here in this dimension – your Materia was being sold in a world that has to draw its spells individually from monsters. In the wrong hands, such an advantage may well – and has – vividly altered the passage of history in that world." He waved his hand again. "But I digress."

"So…why are you telling me this?" reiterated Tifa.

"As I mentioned previously, two of my number have defected from my cause, another has fallen, and I am in desperate need to fill the…_gaps_"

Tifa blinked. "Me?" she asked, dumbfounded. "What makes me so special?"

"You performed admirably against those monsters. And you seem to possess a reasonable preliminary understanding of the situation."

"What's the catch?"

Golbez developed a hint of slyness in his smile. "Once you enter my employ, you are forbidden – upon pain of death – to ever set foot in your home dimension again – and only in an exceptional situation are you permitted to return."

Tifa sighed, and then nodded, indicating Golbez should continue.

"You are forbidden to tell anybody where you have gone – everyone here must think you missing, or preferably dead."

She began to feel a small blossom of hope well up within her. "If you'd asked me that two years ago, it would have been an issue. Now? Not so much."

"And finally, you must follow my orders without question and without failure, lest you feel my displeasure."

Ignoring his last statement, Tifa asked, "Tell me…is a man named Cloud one of your Guardians?" His manner of disappearance fit all too well with Golbez's requirements, but the man just grinned callously.

"I'm afraid not. Our Mr Strife has met with a much more…unpleasant fate."

"So you know where he is?" demanded Tifa, but Golbez shook his head.

"I'm afraid that's all the information I am able to divulge until – if – you join my Order."

Tifa's mind raced. She had no friends or family to speak of to leave behind, so guilt or loneliness wasn't a factor. Nor was she particularly attached to her home dimension – she had been taught and raised to value what she held inside her. Besides, she had saved the Planet, and it was enough for her to know she was leaving people who would stand to protect it again should she vanish like Cloud had done. And Cloud…this Golbez claimed to know more than he was telling about her missing childhood friend.

"I understand that this is an important decision, however I have other Guardians to seek out and not a lot of time to find them. Let me put it to you this way. How would you like to save the world?"

"Been there, done that," replied Tifa.

"…From Sephiroth?" smirked Golbez.

"Been there…done…are you serious?"

"Deadly. As you are no doubt aware, Sephiroth has a penchant for returning to life from the dead – and although he has a fair way to go, he is well on his way to being whole again."

That solidified Tifa's resolve. She had made her decision.

"And I feel I should explain further…you won't be saving the world, as I just said, but worlds, as in the plural…"

"Count me in," interrupted Tifa.

Golbez surveyed her with an intense scrutiny. "Are you sure?"

Tifa nodded. "I came up this mountain to give me purpose, and it gave me one in the form of you. I'm not just going to reject it outright."

"Then I hereby pronounce you Guardian of Air," announced Golbez solemnly, making a ceremonial gesture with his hand. Tifa felt her entire body start to tingle as he spoke the words, but after a few moments it began to fade.

A few moments of silence later, Tifa felt compelled to speak. "…Is that it?"

Golbez sighed and rolled his eyes. "Out of all the words people might possibly speak, invariably those are the words people choose to utter."

Something was different about him – that affability was gone; as if he had what he came for, and could now drop the act – which, Tifa reasoned, could entirely be the case.

"Yes," he continued, "That's it. You will now also have some manifest attribute derived from your element – which is air, and don't forget that."

"I'll do my best," said Tifa, vaguely sarcastic. "What physical element?"

Golbez shrugged. "I don't know. It varies. You'll figure it out, though. Now, your first task; seal that portal. It's the most dangerous kind of portal, in that it doesn't require a Guardian to activate it, anyone or thing is able to move through it. Like a horde of angry monsters."

"The horde of angry monsters that are still around the portal and will need killing before I can get near it…?" asked Tifa.

Golbez looked back at the ravenous pack. "Yes, I suppose they will. Sort that out, too, before you leave this dimension? It will be your last deed before you are forced to leave forever."

Tifa looked about she was about to complain, before Golbez spoke again.

"Remember the rules; don't go home, don't tell anyone where you are, don't question Golbez. Follow those three rules and you'll be fine. Now, I have to leave. I and the rest of the Guardians share a small mental link through which you'll be able to ask things such as how to seal a portal, as I'm sure you don't have that knowledge already."

"You'd be right in thinking that," said Tifa, already beginning to doubt her decision. "Can I also ask about other things? Like, say…what happened to Cloud?"

Golbez observed her imperiously for a moment. "I suppose so. In time. Now, get to work."

"Oh…one more thing?" asked Tifa. Golbez nodded haughtily. "What do I do after I'm done here?"

"Then you take up where your predecessor left off. You hunt down Squall Leonhart and his allies and you slaughter them like animals."

Before Tifa could say anything, Golbez flicked his arm imperiously. "I will reach you once those things are over and done with. You're on your own now. And that entails…everything," he grinned.

Tifa got a moment's notice before the invisible barrier – which she had almost forgotten she was standing on – gave way, and she started to plummet towards the rocky ground, hundreds of feet below.

* * *

Author's Note:

We would like to thank **Oblivious of Apocalypse, Samurai Ming, Ogro, Yuleen75, Count D'Ainiac, WolfenDragonfly, Darth Necron, Alpha2Omega, and Brutal2003** for their support.


	45. The Fate of a World

**Previously in Final Trinity...**

**Kuja, **followed by **Lani **and **Elena,** beat** Kain Highwind **to the prize of **Faris**. There, Kuja ripped a piece of the **Void **itself from Faris, it being trapped inside her since her confrontation with **X-Death**. Meanwhile, Kain has been ordered to the **Land of Summoned Monsters** to retrieve information on the elusive **White Materia.** However, while enroute, tragedy struck.** Seifer, **on orders from **Golbez**, was sent to kill **Kain Highwind** and **Fujin** under the premise that Kain had failed one too many times. During the battle, **Shadow** was wounded, and fearing death, Seifer opened a portal to an unknown location, diving to his escape, but not before Fujin followed after him. Immediately after, the portal snapped shut behind them.

Chapter Forty Five

The Fate of a World

"What the hell just happened?" Kain barked.

Everyone was still dazed. Kain was still trying to stand up after the sudden earthquake in the cavern that had threatened to bring the roof down on their heads, and the floor to disappear entirely.

When no one answered Kain's question, he asked, "Did anyone recognize that guy? Do we know who he is?"

"His name is Seifer Almasy," came Shadow's hiss.

Kain turned, and saw that the man was standing only under Rufus' support. The former President of Shinra was holding Shadow upright. The assassin had one arm about Rufus' shoulders. The other held a spot in his side.

"He came from Fujin's world," Shadow continued. "He knows her. They have... history. She told me about him a few times. Who killed him?"

Kain looked about, searching for someone to answer the question for him. No one would meet his gaze.

"No one," he answered. "He got away."

"He _got away_? How do you _get away_? It's a... never mind. Is Fujin looking for him? She's our best tracker. And she has enough reason to--"

Kain cut him off, "Seifer opened a portal and escaped. Fujin jumped in after him... and then the portal closed. She's gone."

Shadow managed to shove Rufus away and strode towards Kain with deadly intent in his eyes. "What do you mean, 'She's gone'? She isn't _gone_. She's _somewhere else_. So we go and get her."

"We don't know where that portal went. It could be anywhere. Do you know how many worlds there are? I don't. Do you want to spend the rest of your life searching through all of them? We can't! We... dammit, we have a mission to do."

"There may be a way."

The two turned to Rufus, who as usual, wore the same smirk as always. Continuing, he said, "We use the Black Materia to find her and bring us to where she is."

Kain was already shaking his head. "Vincent said the Black Materia was dangerous. To be used sparingly. We've been using it to teleport around worlds only because it's an emergency. I heard what using it nearly did to your world. Vincent said--"

"Vincent is dead!" Amarant roared. "And we're still alive. Fuck what he said. We need to get the albino bitch back."

"Fine," Kain said. "I don't want to try it. But... you're right. We're not losing anyone else. We'll need to go back and get the Black Materia from the Invincible."

Rufus opened up the front of his coat, slipped a hand in, and pulled the black orb out. "That won't be necessary. I don't like to trust to fate. I used to live in Midgar. And in that city I learned a very simple lesson. If you want to keep your car, don't leave the keys in the ignition."

The former President of Shinra held the Materia aloft, peering into it, obviously intent on using it himself. Before he could do anything, Kain reached over and snatched it from his hand. Rufus rolled his eyes upwards at the lack of trust. He made a half-hearted attempt to take it back, and Kain slapped the man's hand away with the haft of his spear.

Always before when Kain had used the Black Materia, he had focused on 'where' he wanted to be. There had always been some urgency behind it, a feeling of _need_. Now, he poured all the _need_ that he could into the Black Materia, focusing on the image of Fujin. He forced his will into the Black Materia, and felt it push back. He forced the memory of Fujin on it, and his desire to save her.

And in his mind, he could hear the Materia laugh.

The sound sent shivers through his mind, made him shake uncontrollably. It understood his intent. And it was mocking him, refusing him.

The Materia didn't speak to him. Flashes came before his eyes, pictures and ideas. Vague concepts, and his own memories playing out in a disorganized way. The Materia didn't speak, but it did communicate.

_I take lives_, it seemed to say to him. _Not save them._

Images of dead bodies and burning cities filled Kain's mind. In his ears he could hear the cries of children. In his mouth, he could taste ash. In his nose, he could smell sulphur. On his skin, he could feel fire and ice. Every sense was assailed, told that he was in the presence of Death.

The images burned into his eyes. Not just towns or cities had fallen to the Black Materia in its history. He could feel it summoning up storms that had ravaged countries, clouds where fire rained down and burned everything beneath them. Crops destroyed, lives ruined. Famine of thousands. He could see the ocean retreating from a coastline, and then swiftly coming back with the force of a thousand tidal waves, sweeping the land of all life. And Kain could feel it. Every death the Black Materia had ever caused flashed through Kain's mind.

He wanted to vomit. Wanted to let loose everything he had eaten that day, and keep throwing up until there was nothing left in him. He wanted to fall down, huddled, and plead for mercy. Not for himself, but for everyone the Black Materia had ever harmed.

He kept focusing on Fujin, kept throwing images of her at the Black Materia, determined to make it bring her back, or bring them to her.

In retaliation, it showed Kain its greatest dream.

An image of a world, viewed from space appeared in Kain's mind. He could see everything. The oceans, the land. The way the continents stood, he knew it was his own. Somewhere, down below, were Cecil and Rosa and Yang and Edge and Rydia and everyone else he knew. And there, in the sky above, hurtling towards his home, was a great red ball, easily the size of a city.

Meteor.

Another picture, of Kain using the Black Materia to teleport himself and his companions about. Then, an image of someone else -- blurry and indistinct, a person that didn't really exist, but served as an everyman – trying to use the Materia for a similar purpose, and failing. Finally, there was a memory of his old, bearded friend Cid, flying an airship, the only other person on it being Kain himself. In Cid's hand was the Black Materia. It began to hum with power, and as it did, the airship picked up speed. Kain understood, horror filling him. He knew what the Black Materia was trying to tell him.

And he screamed. A scream of inhuman terror and self-loathing, a scream so primal that everyone around Kain shrank back. Even as they did, Kain hurled the Black Materia as hard as he could against the cavern wall. Rock shards chipped and flew from the impact, but the Materia itself was undamaged. It clattered to the ground harmlessly, and rolled away from the wall. And directly to Kain's feet.

Kain stared at it in horror, and turned away. He retreated behind a stalagmite, and immediately began to retch, but found he couldn't vomit. He was sick to his stomach, and he couldn't throw up. Dry heaving, he didn't even notice Yuna approach.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

He gagged again, but finally managed to stop himself long enough to stand straight, turn, and look her in the eyes. "I'm going to kill a world."

* * *

The manor was opulent. Opulent even by Elena's eye, who'd grown long accustomed to the decadence of Shinra, with its wild spending and demonstrations of wealth and ability. It was archaic by her standards, made of stone and decorated with gilding and tapestries and buttresses. It wasn't the cold steel and mortar construction she was used to, but this was no less oppressive despite the decoration.

The mansion itself was adjoined by an auction house that Kuja claimed to own. It was a front, of sorts, a way to bring in rare and exotic things, a place to house them, and have no one question it. A smart move, Elena had to admit. Still, being in such luxury, she felt almost... exposed. She knew they were on the run. Most of their group had been killed during the fight with Seymour and Kefka. Those they had hunted, Kain Highwind and his ilk, would likely be looking for them now.

Elena could almost feel the walls close in on her. Never mind that the room was spacious. It was still a prison, of sorts. A prison of their own making. She needed to get out, but she couldn't be seen by anyone. She'd be recognized as an outsider right away. Tales might be told. Rumour might spread. And she might be found.

And if Rufus Shinra ever found her...

She shuddered. She didn't want to be leading her mind down _that_ path. There were other people that were deadlier and more capable in battle. But few were as vicious, cunning and vindictive as Rufus.

Pushing the thought away, she stood from the chair she had been sitting on and turned to face one of the windows. There Lani stood, idly fondling her large axe. She seemed just as nervous as Elena felt. She obviously didn't like the idea of sitting in one place either. And neither of them liked the course events were taking recently.

It had all begun in a quest for revenge. Kill the ones who had wronged them. Or at least wrong them in return. Now, everything was upside down. Revenge was no longer a concern. Survival was. And Kuja's agenda, whatever that was.

Elena turned to face her benefactor, the enigmatic Kuja. She knew nothing of the man, save that he dressed oddly and had more feminine grace than most female dancers. At this particular moment, he was sprawled out across a divan, laying in such a way so that his head dangled over the side, looking at the room upside down. His feet were propped up on a stack of pillows, and his hands were playing with an impossibly black ball of energy. Elena shuddered. Every time she looked at that ball, she felt cold. Something gnawed at her every time she gazed upon it. It wasn't alive, she knew. It was the opposite. What Kuja held – what he played with as if it were a child's toy – was nothing itself. Endless void, just waiting to consume.

Kuja murmured something.

Elena jumped at the sound. While Kuja seemed content with playing with his new bauble, the darkness he had withdrawn from the woman known as Faris, he hadn't spoken since. The Turk strained her ears to listen.

"... Hope. We were all created for the wrong reason..."

He trailed off, his words unintelligible for a moment, and then continued, louder, pronouncing each word more and more clearly. "... to live on forever. To remind us that we were not created for the wrong reason – that our life has _meaning!_"

He abruptly flipped himself back onto the divan, then stood upright. Lani, still gazing out the window, jumped at the sudden movement, and held her axe up defensively.

A smile covered Kuja's face, and he looked Elena directly in the eye. "He was right, you know. He was _right_. I know what we must do!"

A thousand thoughts tumbled through Elena's head. Who was right? What was he right about? Why did Kuja just realize this now? Was he mad? But none of those were important as, _What did Kuja plan now?_

Abruptly a portal flashed to life, black along the edges, white in the middle. Without even a questioning glance to see if the others were following, Kuja boldly stepped into it. Elena looked to Lani, who seemed terrified. Neither of them wanted to follow. But both realized, they had no choice.

Elena was the first through, being the closest, but Lani came in shortly afterwards. A sudden _shunt_ hit Elena in the stomach, and she felt like vomiting. She would never, _ever_, get used to travelling in this way. Still, she recovered more quickly than she had in the past, and looked about her new-found surroundings.

The room they were in was beautiful. There was no other word for it. All about were crystalline formations, each emanating with some unknown light. Colours played off them in a dazzling array of rainbow hues. And on one wall was a gigantic mirror.

"Where are we?" Lani asked.

"He was _right_," Kuja growled. "I doubted! Oh, how I doubted! Unsure that I was on the right course, that I was upon the right path! But now, in my heart of hearts, in my very soul, I _know_. This is the way it is meant to be! This is my path. This is my salvation. For we all have a choice in this fight, this fight we call life. He lost the fight, but I will not! I understand now. We were meant to rebel. Right from the beginning. Do you hear me, Cetra? Do you hear me, Golbez?"

Kuja thrust his hands into the air, and lifted his head ceiling-ward. "Kill me if you can, Golbez!"

Elena flinched, expecting this person, this Golbez, to appear and strike down Kuja. This must be his home, she realized. She remembered Siegfried mentioning the name 'Golbez' before. Apparently, he was the force behind Highwind and his lot. A force that had left his home unguarded.

"Very well then," Kuja said. "Suit yourself."

And then with a dramatic flourish, Kuja waved both his hands to either side of him, and all along the walls, crystals shattered. Elena ducked her head reflexively, throwing up a Protect spell with one of her Materia. Shards glanced off the magical protection, and a second later, Elena cast a second spell, this one around Lani.

Kuja began to spin, his arms gracefully flying about him. He seemed almost possessed, dancing about the room. And wherever his fingers pointed, crystals and mirrored surfaces broke. And none of the debris touched him. Every time a piece came close, the black orb that hovered about him intercepted it, swallowing it whole.

Abruptly Kuja stopped. He looked about the room, stunned by his work. His own face was shocked, as if he had no idea what he had just done. And then, he smiled. And laughed. He laughed until he was doubled over. He laughed until he cried. He laughed until his fists were clenched so tightly that blood issued from wounds made by his own nails. He laughed with the sound of insanity.

And Elena shuddered, and wondered if she was on the right side.

* * *

"How could I be so stupid?" Shadow growled.

Cyan looked worriedly on his companion. He had known Shadow for some time now. They had fought Gestahl's Empire and Kefka together. Marched through the beautiful plains of the World of Balance, and seen the horrors of the World of Ruin. They had never been close, but Cyan felt that he knew Shadow as much as any man could ever know him. And with all that experience, Cyan had never once seen Shadow berate himself; doubt himself.

"I revealed my presence," the man said as he paced about the cavern. "I do my best work from the shadows, _hence the name_. Going into a direct confrontation with a well trained... no, a _superbly _trained fighter? Idiocy. And that opening attack. Going in for the kill with both my weapons, not leaving either for parrying? I should have..."

The man trailed off, muttering to himself. It wasn't the berating that caught Cyan so off guard, though. It was the fact that Shadow was right. If the scenario he was describing was true, then it did paint a poor light on Shadow's performance. The man was a thorough professional, preferring a set of routine attacks that he never deviated from. Never _had_ to deviate from because the only people who witnessed them were usually dead afterwards.

Still, it wasn't Shadow that worried Cyan. Or even Fujin. He was confident that the girl, wherever she was, could take care of herself. This Seifer Almasy may be deadly, but he was wounded and unarmed. Fujin was neither.

No, what worried Cyan more than anything was Kain. Yuna had gone to speak to him, and only reported back that he wanted to be left alone. Meanwhile, Shadow was growing increasingly restless, and Amarant seemed about to lose patience as well. Rufus, watching the spectacle, looked decidedly smug.

Cyan could feel restlessness in him. The need to act, but it felt directionless. Ever since the spirit of the noble warrior, Auron, filled him, there was a need for action coursing through his veins. An impatience, almost. One that reminded him of his own youth. All about him were scoundrels and rogues, the exception being Yuna, and he was expected to tolerate them. Work with them. He could do it, he knew. Sometime in his past he had worked for a corrupt religion. Cyan shook his head. No, he'd never done that.

It was happening increasingly more often. He would remember things, things that had never happened to him. But things that felt very real. He could recall serving as a warrior monk, sword in hand, fighting against fiends in defense of his people. He remembered a man, all in red robes and the raiment of a Summoner, with a kindly smile and a sorrow, a sense of inevitability in his eyes. And a man, belligerent and uncouth, but noble and brave, that had sacrificed his very core, his own soul, to become--

A sudden sadness filled Cyan. The memory was not his own, but it felt so very real. He missed the man he now knew to be Jecht, even though he had never met him. These were Auron's experiences, he knew. Yuna had said that when Auron had possessed her, they were still two distinctly different entities. And she had said when Shuyin had possessed Baralai, the spirit had completely overridden the Praetor. But with Auron and himself, he knew, there was something very different. They were not separate. One did not dominate the other. There was no voice in his head dictating his actions, or even offering advice.

Cyan was Auron.

Auron was Cyan.

The revelation was frightening, exciting, nerve-racking, and liberating. He didn't know how he felt at all, just knew that this, this was _right_. He'd figured it out a while ago, but every so often, it'd hit him again, and it would be the same experience all over again.

There would be no more indecisiveness. There would be action.

Striding forward, he made his way to the cavern Kain had sequestered himself in. Yuna, a surprised look on her face, stepped forward, moving as if to intercept him. He grunted, and raised an eyebrow at her. She stopped in her tracks, uncertain, and he strode past. Likely she recognized that look. He'd given it to her quite a few times in the past, when they'd been on her Pilgrimage.

Striding past her, he entered the tunnel, rounded a corner, and found Kain sitting on the rocky floor. The man had his head in his hands, and he shook uncontrollably.

"Highwind!" Cyan barked, using his crisp drill sergeant's voice, "Get a hold of thyself!"

The man didn't respond, just continued his routine of shaking. So, Cyan did the only thing he knew to do when a soldier failed to listen to a man who was talking sense. He kicked him, as hard as he could. The blow took Kain on the shoulder, driving him to his side, sprawled on the ground. Even as out of it as the man was, he still reacted with a warrior's instinct, moving with the blow and immediately getting back up, his weapon levelled at Cyan.

"Good," the samurai said. "Thou art not completely useless."

"Leave me be," Kain said, anger and sadness in his voice.

"No. Thou art our leader. Act like one, or we shall leave thee here in these caves. Perhaps, after we hath left, we will send for thy mother, so that she can tie thee to her apron strings once more."

"Find another leader!"

"Is this about thy failure to bring back Fujin? Pick the Black Materia up once more and try again! I have faith in thy ability to bring her back to us, so long as thou try thy best. An' if not, if thy knowledge of Materia is too limited, surely we can get Rufus to make the attempt. Fujin will come back to us, of this I am certain."

"It won't work for Rufus," Kain said bitterly. "It won't work for anyone, except me."

"How canst thou know til we try?"

"Because the Black Materia told me! It ... it _showed_ me things. It's capable of the darkest of the black arts. Fires from the heavens, tidal waves that you could not comprehend, disease and famine... and _Meteor_. I saw Meteor, Cyan."

The samurai was set back on his heels at the words, at the vehemence of Kain's tone. The Dragoon continued, all the while shaking his spear threateningly, "It showed me so much death. You think... hundreds, thousands of deaths. It's just a number. Even millions. Or billions, as silly a number as that is. You can't comprehend the number, so you just label it off as 'a lot' and think of it as a tragedy. But the Black Materia showed me _every single death_ it had caused. I... I felt them all. Not just one. Not just a hundred. Not even a thousand, or a million. It's killed entire worlds, Cyan. It looks for the next person to wield it. The last one was Sephiroth. Sephiroth tried to use it to kill his own world, but he failed. The Black Materia found him wonting. I don't think it'll respond to him again. But now... now it's chosen me. It thinks I can use it to destroy a world. And that's why it allows me to use it to teleport us around. Because it knows, the more I use it, the more I think about it. The more I get used to it. And one day, I'll think to myself, 'Well, there's a problem I can't solve, but the Black Materia can.' And eventually, there'll be another problem. And then another. And then _another._ Until, finally, it will only make sense to summon Meteor. That's it's purpose, Cyan. To summon Meteor. And it wants so desperately to do it. It doesn't care what world it kills. It just wants to do it. But it needs someone to direct it."

"How canst thou--?"

"It told me, Cyan! Haven't you been listening? It showed so many images... and I know. The only reason why it allows me to use it at all is because I, and no one else, will use it to kill. Do you still want me for your leader, Cyan? I'm not Kain Highwind. I'm Kain Worldbreaker."

"Damn you, man," Cyan said through clenched teeth. "It does not matter if thy fate is cursed. For now, thou art a hero! A hero who must lead his soldiers to the Land of Summoned Monsters. If thou canst do it, then surely I shall kill thee where thou stand, so thou canst complete thy dark destiny. Then, shall we seek the help of a true hero to replace thee. I understand that this is thy world. I wonder, perchance, if Cecil Harvey would aid us in our cause, where thou hast failed."

Kain recoiled, as if he had been hit. But finally, he lowered his weapon, and shook his head. "I can't be your leader."

"Then we shall allow Rufus to take charge! Surely in his veins flows the blood of greatness. Mayhap he would make an adequate replacement."

"Someone else," Kain growled. "Anyone but him."

"Neither Shadow nor Amarant care for command. Both art loners, inexperienced with working with others. Yuna is still a stranger to us, not chosen by Golbez. I know her better than thee, but I am but one man. And I am far too set in my ways to lead these men. Verily, at the first chance, I would gladly toss Rufus from our ranks, and perhaps Amarant as well. Only thou hast the patience, the will to hold this band together. If thou wilt not perform thy task, then we art lost."

"Am I interrupting something?" a female voice asked.

Both men immediately turned to face the speaker. She was youngish, appearing to be in her teenage years. She was dressed all in green; her boots, clothes, robe, and even her hair was the same emerald colour. Her eyes bespoke wisdom, but her mouth had a grin that bespoke a somewhat mischievous nature.

Kain breathed, "Rydia."

* * *

Author's Note:

Thank you once more to **WolfenDragonfly, Yuleen75, Alpha2Omega, Count D'Ainiac, sckry, Samurai Ming, Darth Necron, Brutal2003, **and **Ogro.** We really appreciate the faithfulness of our readers, and their continued patronage.


	46. Earth and Water

**Previously on Final Trinity...**

**Squall **and his company, fleeing the **Galbadian fleet** sent to bring the leader of SeeD to justice after he was mistakenly charged with activating the **Lunatic Pandora** over **Deling City**, were hit with a missile blast as they were attempting to jump dimensions and escape their pursuers. Meanwhile, **Tifa Lockhart** was recruited by **Golbez** as the **Dimensional Guardian of Air** in place of **Zidane Tribal**, who was outcast for helping Squall and the others escape certain death.

Chapter 46

Earth and Water

A burst of light.

Sound screamed at his ears.

Nothingness.

An explosion, rattling every bone in his body.

The viewfinder cleared after showering Squall with dirt and loose stone.

The airship skimmed across the top of the mountain, its engines dead, and dipped to the ground.

One of the few alarms that still functioned started to blare a collision warning.

Its crew were powerless to stop the descent, which ended when the ground rushed to meet them, and shook them stronger than anything before.

Then the metallic hulk was quiet, the same as everything within.

* * *

_Tick._

_Tick._

_Tick._

_Tick._

_Tick._

Slowly, and very painfully, Zidane opened his eyelid. Painful white light flooded into his retina and he squeezed it shut again to stop it. A second attempt allowed him to expose his eye for a longer duration before protecting it again, and he repeated the process until he was able to squint.

His entire body ached; he imagined, from the impact after they hit whatever they had hit.

He frowned. He wasn't on board the airship anymore. The bright white light shining all around him was a testament to that; whatever was above him wasn't the ceiling of the brig.

_Tick._

_Tick._

_Tick._

_Tick._

"Welcome back," said a familiar voice. Zidane managed to sit up, holding the side of his head to try and contain the pain that clawed at the inside of his skull.

A large white expanse rose up around him, defying distance. The horizon was simply more white, fading slightly to give the indication of it being further away.

He looked around to see the only objects marring the otherwise complete whiteness. A small wooden table stood on whatever functioned as this place's floor, a metronome sounding out a beat that echoed in the perfect silence.

_Tick._

_Tick._

_Tick._

Standing by it was Tseng, his back to Zidane, and he was staring at the metronome.

"Are you alright?" he asked without turning around. Zidane nodded.

"A little worse for wear. But I guess anyone in our position would feel the same way."

"Being on an crashing airship?"

Zidane shakily got to his feet. "Yeah, that's it. Bad idea. Remind me never to do it again."

"I will," said Tseng, with no hint of sarcasm in his voice. Still he didn't turn around. Zidane frowned.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

There was a brief pause.

_Tick._

_Tick._

"…No," said Tseng finally. "I…need your help."

"What's wrong?"

"My body has been sucked from the Ragnarok as we crashed. I'm reaching to you through our mental link, and it is possible that one or more of the other Guardians have heard me. Forgive me…I had no choice. I am incapable of moving my own body – my mind is the only responsive part of me left."

"Don't worry about it," said Zidane.

"No, I must apologise because…I have endangered yours and everyone else's lives by thinking of my own survival."

"Meh. I probably would've done the same thing. Where are you?"

"I don't know. I am hoping we can utilise our link as a form of navigational aid."

"Okay, well, as soon as we get out of this place then I'll get right on it."

Tseng's arm snaked around and latched onto Zidane's. Patches of flesh were torn from his face, and the front of his suit was in tatters. His knuckles were bloodied, and his right eye heavily bloodshot. "Remember. Your own physical condition will be impaired."

Zidane eyed his companion honestly. "Probably not as bad as yours is."

"Well then," said Tseng, returning to gazing at the metronome. "I look forward to seeing you with my own two eyes."

_Tick._

Zidane coughed, and blood splattered from his mouth. Disorientated, he suddenly found himself lying on his back on a cold, metallic surface. Acrid smoke clawed at his throat, and the breath he drew after coughing prompted another, similar reaction when the smoke gained entry to his lungs. They contracted, trying to force the poison from his body, and he degenerated into a coughing fit.

He managed to roll onto all fours, hacking blood onto the deck below him. The red, viscous fluid splattered the metal surface, and Zidane realised that he was back on the Ragnarok. Or more pointedly, what was left of it.

Smoke was rolling from an electrical fire billowing from one of the bulkheads, and the room was plunged into almost total darkness. Disorientated from the transition from illumination to darkness, Zidane crawled to where he thought the hatch allowing exit from the room stood, and mercifully struggled through it into the corridor.

His eyes stung with natural daylight as soon as he appeared in this new corridor, and he struggled towards it, hopeful of an escape. The tear in the bulkhead blew fresh air into his face before he clambered through it, out into the sunlight.

He fell down face first onto the soft grass of the ground outside the Ragnarok and rolled down the small hillock. He gasped uncontaminated air into his lungs for a time, staring up at the sky, simply lying and recovering his strength. He reached out with his mind, trying to get a feeling for this new dimension. Part of being a Guardian meant the ability to intuitively know exactly what dimension you were standing in, but being stripped of the title also meant some of his abilities were gone; others, like the dimension radar, were impaired.

And others, like his physical elemental ability to change parts of or the whole of his body into air, were seemingly more powerful. He had never been able to change his entire body before he had been ejected from the ranks of the Guardians, but now he was finding less and less difficulty in carrying out the physical function. The implications of that scared him; was he just going to float away some day? Was the ability affecting him in ways other than the physical? In the mean time, though, he had to just grin and bear it because no one else was going to sort out this mess.

Well, maybe Kain and the others. But they were under Golbez's command; attached to his leash. Zidane had been doing the mental equivalent of trying to keep eyes in the back of his head, listening for the leaked mental instruction from Golbez that meant Kain and his entourage would begin the hunt for their heads. But of course, Golbez would probably tell Kain in person. He wouldn't want to risk Zidane or Tseng hearing about it first and enacting countermeasures. He'd want Kain to kill every last one of them, and then get back to stopping Sephiroth – which, for all the good it seemed to be doing, they might as well give up on and dedicate their time to stopping Squall.

Squall, who seemed to be getting edgier and edgier the entire time Zidane was with him. Not that the boy could blame him. The Lunar Cry, a gaggle of strangers to look after, his nemesis existing beyond the ability to kill again and…there was the unfortunate business about Ellone. He didn't know the specifics, but Squall was hit pretty hard by her death. Maybe this was Ultimecia's plan – drive Squall slowly insane and then mop up the aftermath. At least she would have a plan; that crazy guy Kefka just seemed to be in it for the chaos and destruction factor. And who knows what Sephiroth really wanted – last Zidane had heard, Golbez was still pretty clueless on that front; though, granted, it had been a few days since he had heard anything, when he and then Tseng had been cast from the fold.

Zidane finally sat up, and his lungs didn't start automatically hacking up blood, which he took to be a good thing. Tseng. Now he would go find Tseng.

* * *

_Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick._

Tseng supposed that someone else might have been driven insane by the presence of a time measuring device such as the metronome in a situation where all one could do was wait, but he found it relaxing. The moments between the ticks of the device could be stretched out infinitesimally, each providing an opportunity for an eternity of thought.

Simply put, Tseng was not sure how much time he had left, and was savouring every moment. But now something was disturbing the sanctity of his train of thought. An echo built up around the man, and the strangeness of the sound was amplified when Tseng considered there was nothing for the noise to bounce off, and therefore echo.

He span around, trying to discover the source of the disturbance, when the sound built to crescendo and coalesced into an understandable noise.

"Help me…" 

Tseng sensed something behind him, and though he had just looked there, a figure now stood in the vastness of his mindscape. A shock of red hair jutted from almost nowhere, contrasting starkly with the pure white of his surroundings.

Tseng smirked, and relaxed. He cleared his throat, attracting the attention of the interloper. The man spun around, his hands raised in a defensive stance.

Tseng shook his head. "Not here, Seifer. You wouldn't like to fight me here."

Seifer looked as though he was about to ignore Tseng's command, but then at least last moment his stance relaxed. He scowled and looked around, taking in the enormity of his new environment.

"You need help?" asked Tseng.

"Not from you," was the immediate reply. Seifer started to stalk about, pacing around the table in an attempt to discover an exit to this place. After several moments he snorted in disgust. "Where are we?"

"As far as I can tell, inside my mind," said Tseng. "Or maybe not. I don't think it's important."

Seifer looked at Tseng in disbelief. "Not important? Maybe not to you, but I need to get out of here."

"Why?" The question caught Seifer short, and the younger man almost missed a step in his frantic pacing.

"Because… Just because, okay?"

"You've used a mental link before. You know how to break the connection."

Seifer said nothing, his gaze burning into Tseng's eyes. The Turk was beginning to understand.

"Ah, I think I see. Where are you, Seifer?"

After several long moments of more pacing, Seifer finally stopped and stared levelly at Tseng.

"I don't know. Alright? You happy now? I don't know."

Tseng was frowning. "Why did you venture so far out?" Although it had been difficult for him to understand it when he had been initiated, Tseng felt he had adopted an appropriate train of thought to comprehending the nature of multiple dimensions. He tried to think of the layers of realities as an ever-expanding sphere, structured like an onion. While technically each dimension should operate in parallel to all of their infinite counterparts, the Guardians had found that this wasn't true. Occasionally they would venture to a dimension that was out of the range of their mental link, which supported the theory that there was somehow some distance between each world.

Likely they would never know for sure, but the simple fact remained – Seifer could speak to Tseng, but not Golbez and the others.

"Not like I could help it," returned Seifer. "I've never been here before. I don't think anyone has."

"Where is the portal you entered from?"

"It's not there anymore. Just after I arrived, I felt someth – " And then he was gone. Tseng had blinked, and in the split second his eyes had been shielded Seifer had vanished. Tseng looked around him, searching for the Earth Guardian, but there was nothing there except for the table and the metronome.

_Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.  
_

* * *

Irvine gasped for air, clutching instinctively at the thing pressing against his chest, trying to free himself from its grasp. While his safety harness had saved him from death upon being hit by that missile, now it seemed like it was crushing his ribs, forcing the air from his body and suffocating him.

The release mechanism unclasped and Irvine fell from the chair. The deck was tilted at an awkward angle, and the chair was no longer upright against the bank of controls that enabled navigation of the airship. The sniper coughed violently, only succeeding in drawing more of the poisonous fumes into his body.

Two things suddenly leapt into his mind – where was Squall, and why wasn't there fresh air flowing through the cockpit from the shattered forward screen?

The first of his questions was answered when he clutched at the opposite chair and felt his leader's presence next to him, strapped in like he had been. The second was resolved by looking up through the heavy wall of smoke billowing from the fire raging inside the central control mechanism. Debris had fallen into place, blocking the flow of air through the screen.

Irvine stood unsteadily, and suffering through a coughing fit all the while, managed to raise an effort against the wall of wreckage obstructing his escape from the doomed vessel.

He pulled at a large hunk of metal, wincing as the heat from the flames warmed his hands uncomfortably. The rubble shifted slightly and Irvine prepared to leap back in case the wall collapsed in on him, but after the minute shift the debris remained in place.

Desperate now, Irvine tried to mount a further attack on the wreckage separating him and survival, when another pair of hands joined his. Squall stood next to him, trying to shield his face inside the collar of his jacket. Together they heaved at the same piece of metal, and with their combined effort the debris shifted and the blockage collapsed. Cool air blew into the cockpit through the shaft of light now shining into the ship, and the two men drew deep breaths of the life giving oxygen into their lungs.

Irvine clambered up the pile of wreckage and out into the open air, but he turned around when he realised Squall wasn't beside him. The blackened metal shifted under his feet and Irvine squinted back down into the gaping hole torn into the front of the ship.

"Squall, c'mon!"

The SeeD shook his head. His face was streaked with soot, and the smoke was clinging heavily to his body as it rolled off the sparking console he stood behind.

"The others. I've got to go and get them." Irvine nodded, starting to climb back down the rubble, but Squall's outstretched hand stopped him in his tracks.

"No. You check the perimeter; see if there are any settlements nearby. Figure out where we are. Keep an eye out for any other ways to get into the ship."

Irvine nodded, remembering how Squall had sharply brought him into line when he nearly questioned one of his orders last time. Something was changing in Squall – granted, he was under a lot of pressure, but when he started snapping at his family then something was definitely wrong. Although a curt reply was the norm with Squall, his reprimand was harsh even by his antisocial standards.

He started down the other side of the wreckage and took in their surroundings for the first time. A breathtaking vista rose up to his left; a massive ridge of rock rose up thousands of feet into the air, every detail of the jagged peaks standing out in perfect detail by the sunlight streaming through the cloudless sky. To his right stretched a vast expanse of an ocean, stained red by the setting sun, and before him there was a narrow strip of green – the long grass ruffled gently as the breeze slowed through it. The sun shone brilliantly from the horizon over the water, and Irvine found himself basking in the last embers of a day in yet another world.

He reflected bitterly that while this world appeared to be experiencing the end of a perfect day, his own was in the process of being decimated by powerful weapons of mass destruction. Tears began to fill his eyes as he recalled the loss of Ellone, as well as everything else that had gone horribly wrong for them all, but he shook his head and started walking towards the mountain range, intent on finding out what the landscape looked like on the other side of the crashed Ragnarok. He had a job to do.

_Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick._

* * *

"Can't you turn that insufferable thing off?" grumbled Seifer.

Tseng opened his eyes from where he sat in a lotus position. He uncurled his fingers and flexed the muscles, regaining some of the feeling in them.

Seifer scowled. "What good is flexing your muscles inside your mind?"

Tseng stood slowly, considering the point. "I suppose I enjoy the sensation," he replied after several moments' consideration. "How long have you been standing there?"

"How would I know?" the Guardian of Earth snapped. Tseng eyed him coolly.

"Because you are stood next to a metronome."

Seifer snorted and started to pace away, but he seemed to think better of it. He started to reluctantly wheel back towards the Turk, hoping not to make his return obvious. Tseng felt impatience start to bubble up inside of him, and tried to suppress the emotion.

"I might be dying, Seifer, and I have no desire to spend my remaining time with you. Either spit it out, or get out of my mind."

Seifer sighed. "It's not like you've had a lot of company to pass the time with in here. How can you stand it, anyway? I'd have died of boredom since I last saw you."

Tseng eyed him cautiously. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you've been in here for weeks. Months, even. Shouldn't your body have just packed in by now? Where are you, anyway?"

Tseng started to feel sympathy trickle into him, even though he disliked Seifer. "…I last saw you minutes ago," he said as empathetically as possible. "If weeks have passed for you…you may have slipped into a Dead Zone."

Seifer's eyes widened in horror, and he instinctively took several steps away from the outcast Guardian. "No. You're lying. You're making it up to throw me off balance, and then you're going to…"

Tseng shook his head slowly as Seifer trailed off. "I'm sorry, Seifer, But there's nothing I can do for you. Maybe had you been in a regular dimension we could try and mount a rescue, but if you are in a Dead Zone…"

Seifer started to boil with rage, and he thrashed around at the air, trying to make something pay for the circumstance he found himself in. "No!" he wailed. "It's not fair! Why are you lying to me!? You'd better hope you never wake up, Tseng, because I'll come looking for you once you do, and I'll make you pay for this trick!"

"It's no trick," said the Turk softly. "I'm sorry," he reiterated.

Seifer howled in despair and anger, and then he vanished again, leaving only the sound of his seething emotion echoing in the air. After a moment, Tseng sat back down on the floor and returned to the lotus position, only the slightest trace of melancholy remaining on his otherwise impassive features.

* * *

Irvine had only to walk across to the other side of the Ragnarok to find something disturbing – he reckoned that it was some kind of record. Normally upon entering a new dimension it seemed to take a few hours for things to go horribly wrong, but here he was, minutes after emerging from the hulk of the Ragnarok, confronted by the latest crisis.

A small crowd of people were gathered around a hole torn in the side of the ship, and in the middle of the group were the inert bodies of Reno, Locke and Avira.

Irvine's hand instantly produced the rifle slung, as always, to his back, training it on the nearest of the people, and cocked the weapon. At the metallic snap, the group, as one, bolted upright and turned slowly to face the source of the noise, and it was at this point Irvine's shoulders sagged, and the tip of his rifle lowered slightly.

They were all blind. Each of the people had a patch of discoloured flesh surrounding the scarred pits that were meant to contain their eyes. So far as he could tell, Irvine could not see a member of the twenty-strong crowd with the ability of vision.

"He Who Understands," said one of them in greeting, facing towards Irvine. The tip of the rifle rose back up and pointed directly at the man who had just spoken.

"I don't know who you are, but…I'm aiming a rifle at you right now. You might not, like, see it, but it's there. You're all gonna back away now, and leave my friends right were they are."

The figure at the front smiled faintly. "We see your rifle, He Who Understands. But we know that you will not use it."

"Don't be so sure of that," growled Irvine. "Now get the hell away from my friends."

"As you wish, He Who Understands," said the man humbly, and as a body, the group stepped slowly away from Avira, Locke and Reno. As they moved away, Irvine stepped to his three friends, checking that they were all right. A pulse bobbed in each of their necks, and a quick check revealed that each of them was breathing. He stared up at the group of people.

"Where's Quistis?" he demanded.

"She Who Solves is inside the Demonic Vessel. But it is not our Task to retrieve her."

Irvine frowned, about to question his words, when debris from inside the hulk of the Ragnarok clattered free of the hole and Squall appeared, Quistis cradled in his arms, gasping for breath. He fell to his knees once he was clear, but he kept hold of his charge, laying her gently on the ground next to the other three unconscious people.

A faint gasp rippled through the horde of blind people, one whispering a sentence just as another completed their own.

"The Lionheart," murmured the man at the front.

"Vanquisher of the Sorceress," uttered another.

"Combatant of the War of Time."

"Warrior of the Conflict of Space."

"Leader of Those Who Do Not Belong."

"Challenger of the Dark One and his Guardians."

Squall regarded the group before him with bloodshot eyes, his breath wheezing in his throat.

"Right," he croaked. And then he passed out.

"Squall!" exclaimed Irvine, rushing forward, but the apparent leader of the group of strangers held up his hand.

"The appointed hour of the Lionheart's death is not at hand. Please, do not concern yourself with his safety. That is our Task."

Irvine squinted at the people again. "Who _are_ you?" he asked, starting to become unnerved by their presence. The leader smiled.

"We are the Gulgans," he said. "We possess the gift of clairvoyance, at the cost of each of us being born without the ability of conventional sight. We have foretold this event, and you must now come with us, to the appointed place, at this appointed hour. We will heal your wounds and prepare the way for the Task that lies ahead of you."

Irvine scowled at the assembled group, moving forwards as to shield the others against the crowd of people. "You're gonna have to forgive me, but I'm a little low on trust right now."

The lead Gulgan smiled again. "We know this, He Who Understands. But surely you must realise that, if we desired to harm you, we would already have done so as you lay helpless within the Demonic Vessel."

Irvine faltered as the logical point worked against his instincts.

"Besides which, we have proof we do not desire to harm you." His face almost faded away, his expression fading into euphoric joy. "I see a girl," he spoke in a voice filled with awe. "A girl dressed in blue and green. She means a great deal to you. She Who Guides is still with you, He Who Understands, though you have just witnessed her perish. She cannot speak with you now, but she bids you come with us."

Something stabbed at Irvine's heart, and tears sprang to his eyes. With his lower lip trembling, and his voice full of tears, he said, "Say her name. Tell me her name and I'll go with you."

The Gulgan looked momentarily confused, and then comprehension dawned across his features. "Ellone," he said after a moment. "Your… 'Sis'. Now, will you come with us?"

Without a word, Irvine slung the rifle across his back and stepped away from his others, allowing the Gulgans to pick up and carry his friends away from the wreckage of their last transport, and away towards the mountain rising up before them.

* * *

"Tseng."

The word was short and clipped. The man in question opened his eyes, almost startled, to see Seifer bent over double before him, clutching at his stomach. He moaned in pain, and specks of blood fell to the white surface that existed as the ground.

"What happened?" asked Tseng, rising to his feet as Seifer slumped to the floor.

"She got me. The bitch got me," he said, groaning. "Right in the stomach. It's going to take me days to die."

"You aren't going to die," said Tseng as soothingly as possible, though one glance at Seifer's midsection revealed a deep wound, likely caused by a blade. "Rub some dirt on it; that should heal you."

"Don't you think I already tried that?" spat the redhead on the floor. "There's something about this dimension…something that doesn't let me use my Guardian powers. The time is different…I can't use my abilities…I can only speak with you…" He trailed off, his eyes thoughtful.

"What is it?" asked Tseng. Seifer glanced up at him, his expression calculating.

"You have to come and get me," he said. Tseng laughed, caught by the amusement of sudden demand.

"And why on earth would I do a thing like that?"

"Because I know something you don't know."

"I doubt that very much." He stood as if to walk away, but Seifer's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"You idiot!" he cried, his voice filled with rage. "Get off your high horse for two seconds and consider that someone else might be as smart as you are for once in your life!"

Tseng's head snapped back around. "What are you talking about?"

"This mission," said Seifer. "It's all wrong. I realised it too late, but it's all wrong and I should've seen it coming. But now I know what I should've seen, and that means that I know something so important that you and your new friends are going to come get me and then find a way out of a Dead Zone, just to know what it is."

There were a few seconds of tense silence, punctuated starkly by the still-ticking metronome. "You're bluffing," said Tseng finally, his face deadly serious. "You're desperate to escape and I'm the only one who can help you. You'll say anything to escape."

Seifer grinned, his teeth stained red with blood, his voice strained with the pain. "Logic won't save you this time, Tseng. What I know isn't bound by logic, or by fact. You wouldn't be able to figure it out if you had all of eternity to try, which is why you're safe. I'm the only one who _can_ figure it out, and that's why I'm here. D'you know what the Island is?"

Tseng blinked, caught off guard by the abrupt question. "_The_ Island?" he asked. He rushed towards Seifer, suddenly eager, kneeling in front of him. "Is that where you are right now? Who sent you there?"

Seifer's grin had not faded. "Ah, so you see? Maybe there is something I know that you need to, after all. Maybe it'd be best if you came and got me now. _Then_ I'll tell you."

"Seifer…if you are where you say you are, then there is no escape. Even if I tried, I could not enter the dimension you inhabit, let alone bring you back from it." He stopped and gathered his thoughts, anxiety building in his chest. He held out his hands, emphasising what he said next by moving them. "Seifer…listen to me very carefully. The answer to this next question is of the utmost, vital importance." He paused, fearing the answer to the question he had not even asked yet.

"When you travelled to the Island… Did you make the portal yourself, or did you use an existing gateway?"

A drop of blood eased its way from the corner of Seifer's smirk and started to work its way down to his chin.

"If I were you, Tseng, I'd hurry up. With the time dilation here the way it is, I might only be alive for a few more of your seconds."

He vanished again, and this time it was Tseng's cry of frustration that echoed after his disappearance.

* * *

Zidane almost tripped over an exposed tree root and staggered a few steps further into the forest he had entered on his search for Tseng's body. He could sense the general direction in which his associate lay through the mental link they shared, but it was vital he get to Tseng as soon as possible, for a number of reasons. First of all, Tseng might be too badly injured to survive for very long, and this was Zidane's primary concern, but there was also the issue that other Guardians might home in on their link and ambush them while they were in a weakened state.

Something buzzed at his ear, and he tried to wave it away as if it were an insect, but after a second he realised Tseng was trying to speak to him through the link that had been distracting him from the here and now.

_Zidane, hurry up. I've just spoken to Seifer._

"Seifer??" asked Zidane, startled. "Is he here?"

_No. Don't panic. He's stuck in a Dead Zone._

"Oh. Well."

Zidane knew what a Dead Zone was – a dimension that was too dangerous or too remote to safely return from. Also classified under the name were dimensions that were too unimportant to bother travelling to, and worlds too strange to warrant understanding. Zidane had heard the others tell tales about dimensions where up was down, where time travelled differently, and where the regular laws of physics just didn't apply. He'd heard tales of worlds where beings of glass grew in great stalagmite cities, where rivers and oceans ran red with blood, and – oddly – of a world that contained nothing but shrimp. He didn't know how many of the stories were true, but he knew well enough to stay away just in case, and if Seifer had managed to find himself locked inside one then Zidane could find little sympathy in him for the man. He had never liked Seifer anyway.

_We have to go and rescue him._

"What?" demanded Zidane.

_I know what you're going to –_

"What about the part where Golbez and the others are trying to _kill_ us?"

_I know –_

"Or where any of them wouldn't do the same thing for us?"

_Listen, I think –_

"Or that…" Zidane trailed away. What was he saying?

There was a time, not long ago, that he had plunged into the heart of the Iifa tree on the remote chance that he would be able to retrieve Kuja safely before the entire thing collapsed. Kuja, who had just tried to destroy all of reality because…well, for whatever reason he had done it. Now he was refusing the possibility that he might do exactly the same thing for Seifer, who had done a lot less than Kuja had done. Maybe not by a lot, but still less.

What had happened to him? Was it the responsibility of being a Guardian? Or the fact that he had lost all personal perspective, knowing he could never go home? Everything about his home dimensions – both of them – was fading rapidly from his mind, being replaced by all of the crap he had to deal with working for Golbez. There were some times that he couldn't even remember…

He stopped walking. He broke out into a cold sweat, his mind reeling at the implications of what he had just realised. He tried humming a few notes experimentally, but nothing sounded right.

He had forgotten Dagger's song. The thing he thought he would always keep with him, the thing that spurred him on during his darkest moments, and the thing that, upon taking Golbez up on his offer, he thought would keep him sane and human during whatever trials lay ahead of him, was gone.

He had lost track of reality, trembling and staring straight ahead.

_Zidane?_ asked Tseng's voice. He blinked and tried to regain his composure.

"Yeah. Okay. Sure. Let's do it," he said, subdued.

_I'm sorry?_

"Seifer. Let's go rescue him."

Not questioning his sudden turnaround, Tseng carried on voicing his train of thought.

_He has fallen into what is known as the Island. _

Zidane's face displayed perplexity – the first emotion since the revelation had hit him. "The Island?"

_I'm not surprised you haven't heard of it. Imagine a dimension that is simply a small landmass, surrounded by water you cannot swim through or float above. It is the darkest of the Dead Zones, and no one is known to have returned alive from it._

"If no one has returned alive from it…"

_…Then how does anyone know what it is? I have no idea. Logically there must be a way out. Perhaps this has happened before – where a Guardian has found themselves onto the Island and then communicated its existence to the others, but failing to return themselves. But that is immaterial. We need to retrieve Seifer as soon as possible._

"Why's it so important?" asked Zidane, starting to walk again. "Why are we bent on helping Seifer?"

_He has been communicating with me from the Island. He cannot reach the others any more; only I am within his range._

Zidane's eyes widened appreciatively. The Island must be remote for only Tseng to be within range of the Guardians' mental link. "What's he had to say for himself?"

_He claims to know something about his last mission that has dire consequences for us all. _

Zidane shrugged, though as he was simply communicating audibly with Tseng there was no way the other man could see the gesture. "So? You know what Seifer's like. Remember when he first found out where Golbez's body was sleeping? He stalked around for a week like he was holding onto the secret of the universes until Gilgamesh found out why he was being so secretive and beat some sense into him."

_This is different. There's someone with him – a woman, I think. He's been stabbed. It looked bad. And he can't use his elemental power to regenerate._

"How long does he have?"

_Well…that's another complication. You are aware of time dilation between certain dimensions? On the Island it's the most severe I've ever seen it. A matter of minutes in this dimension seems to last weeks on the Island. There is a strong chance that he might already be dead._

Zidane walked faster, refusing to give in to the flicker of impatience he felt towards Tseng. The man was gifted, and he surely possessed a vast knowledge about the way the universes worked, but he had a tendency to talk an awful lot. If Zidane had known time was a factor from the outset, he would have hurried.

The mental link gave a small twinge, and Zidane turned slightly towards the mountain. "I think I'm close by. I'm going to break the talky part of the link so I can concentrate on the finding-you part of the link."

_Affirmative._

Part of their connection broke, and Zidane started towards a small clearing he was feeling particularly drawn to.

"Do you always talk to yourself?" asked a female voice behind him, and Zidane nearly jumped out of his skin. He whirled around to confront the newcomer.

A girl, no more than a few years older than himself, stood in the forest behind him. A long stream of brown hair flowed down her back, tied in a red ribbon. Her feet were placed confidently apart, clad in sneakers, and Zidane's eyes were drawn up the length of her slender body, along her bare legs and the black leather skirt that she wore, past her exposed midriff, and all the way up to…

"My eyes are up here," she said sternly. He coughed and looked away, almost embarrassed. What had gotten into him? He never used to act like this around pretty girls.

Maybe it was another drawback of being a Guardian for so long. He must be out of practice.

"…And what beautiful eyes they are, too," he said lamely, looking back at the girl. She arched an eyebrow at him.

"Well?" she asked. Zidane blinked. "What about my question?"

"Oh, uh…no. Not all of the time," he replied. He frowned then. "Who are you again?"

She placed one of her hands on her hip, and cocked her head to the side.

"Well, as I understand it, I'm your replacement."

All at once, Zidane understood. It was why she had just assumed a confident stance, to hide her nerves. Why she was had snapped at him for what he considered to be a minor faux pas. And it was why she had appeared in the forest instead of inside of his mind. He smiled then, back on form.

"Haven't figured out the specifics of the mental link yet, have you?" he asked jovially. She blinked, startled. "Here, I'll show you. It works like this."

He threw the full weight of his mind at her, and engulfed her in an illusory world.

She cowered back in the centre of the black, swirling fog he had created, trying to assume a combat stance that would cover her against an attack from every direction. Zidane sat back, content to allow her to be confused.

"_State thy name,"_ rumbled a massive voice from inside of the fog. The girl whirled around to face it, but nothing was there. She stepped forward, intent on discovering the source of the noise, not realising that Zidane had created it and was positioned behind her a good distance away.

"Tifa Lockheart," she said defiantly. "I am the Dimensional Guardian of Air, and you will submit to my authority."

Zidane made the bodiless voice boom with laughter so loud that his own eardrums vibrated.

_"Thou art a pitiless cur, and thou hast no power here. Thou live or die upon mine smallest whim. Upon whose authority hast thou acted upon?"_

"Golbez, the Master of the Elemental Guardians," said Tifa. "He commanded me to seek out Squall Leonheart and his group, including the former Guardians of Air and Water, who have been excommunicated. I am to…" she faltered here, which Zidane noted in earnest. "I am to execute them all by the order of Golbez."

The voice shook the earth with laughter again.

_"Thou? Thou art not capable of dispatching a small child, let alone the former Guardians of Golbez. Begone with ye, lest ye feel my wrath."_

Zidane forced the fog to swirl and blast at Tifa, and after a few seconds her form flickered and vanished. While he could not, strictly speaking, banish Tifa from their link, he could assail her senses to the point she could no longer concentrate enough to maintain the connection. He remembered that he had encountered difficulty upon becoming one of Golbez's Guardians, and that Tifa would be encountering those problems now for herself.

He found himself back in the forest to discover that he had a problem of his own. While his mind had been occupied with a direct link to Tifa's, it had become unresponsive to reality. Thus, he had not noticed the group of people surround him completely and tie his hands to his back.

"What…?" he began, but one of the people spoke soothingly to him.

"Do not panic," she said, bringing her face close to his.

Not panic? She didn't have any eyes! Zidane started to concentrate on his wrists, but before he could turn his body into air and escape the bonds, one of the group had swung something heavy into the side of his head.

He had enough time to half-complete a warning to Tseng before he passed out.

Over his inert body, the female Gulgan frowned reproachfully at the male aggressor.

"That was not entirely necessary," she berated. "There were two possible outcomes to this encounter with He Who Is Lost, and one of them ended peacefully."

He almost shrugged. "Time is a factor for these people, and this is the quicker outcome."

"Have the others discovered He Who Leads?" asked the woman. The man nodded.

"Yes. His body was in the foreseen place at the foreseen time. He has sustained grave injuries, but our healers will restore him, as has been foretold."

"And the rest of Those Who Do Not Belong?"

"Our brethren recovered He Who Inherits, She Who Sees and He Who Betrays from the Demonic Vessel. He Who Understands challenged our presence, as was foreseen, but was subdued. The Lionheart recovered She Who Solves from the Demonic Vessel, and now they travel to Gulgan Gulch, where we will join them before sundown."

"Then all is transpiring as we have seen," said the woman in a particularly self-satisfied tone of voice.

"Not all," said the man ominously. "What of the presence of the Puppet? Should not he have appeared?"

The woman looked vaguely troubled. "There were, again, two outcomes to these events. In the first, things happened as they have transpired until now. In the second, prompted by the appearance of the Puppet, we bestowed upon the Lionheart knowledge of his fate as One of the Six. For whatever reason, the Puppeteer has stayed her hand for now, and removed the Puppet, her Vessel, from this world."

"We will consult with the Elders upon our return," said the man. "For now, we must content ourselves with the knowledge that we have completed the first of our Tasks along the road that will lead us all to our Doom."

"As it has been foretold," said the woman ritualistically. The man nodded gravely.

"As it has been foretold," he said.

* * *

Tseng started as Zidane's voice echoed around him, but the words were indistinct and they cut off halfway through whatever it was he was trying to say. He cursed through frustration, knowing that even a delay of seconds could mean the difference between losing Seifer and the information he claimed to hold.

"Not like you," said a weak voice from behind him. Tseng whirled to see Seifer sprawled on the ground, his hand clutched to his stomach, covered in caked blood. Tseng had to suppress the urge to rush to Seifer's aid, knowing that the man he saw before him was merely a projection of the real individual. "To curse," finished Seifer. "Never heard you before now."

"That's because I'm frustrated," said Tseng. "You have to understand, I want to help you. For selfish reasons, maybe, but it was my honest intention to rush to your aid. Only minutes have passed since we last spoke, while it must have been…"

"…Days," said Seifer, glancing down at the wound in his side. "Yeah. She stuck it in me real good. Probably punctured some stuff that I might need to keep on ticking."

Tseng moved to sit by Seifer's side, and neither man said anything for a few seconds.

"These moments are probably the result of the time dilation fluctuating," said Tseng finally. "In a few minutes the gap will grow taut again, and you'll be snapped away, somewhat like an elastic band. When our dimension comes back into synchronisation, we'll have another few minutes. If I had to guess, I'd say that the…"

"You're doing that thing again," said Seifer weakly.

"What?" asked Tseng.

"You're making that talky noise with your mouth. You might wanna look into that."

Tseng almost smiled. "Seifer…" he said gently. "I think I can honestly say that I despise you. Out of all of the Guardians, even Gilgamesh, you displayed the greatest eagerness for bloodshed, even when other means were acceptable. Your crass disregard to the rules of the game, frankly, sicken me, and I'm glad that I no longer have to associate myself with you."

Seifer responded with hardly a trace of fire in his voice. "And you, Tseng, you're a stuck up, arrogant son of a bitch who condemns other people for doing things nowhere near as bad as the things you've done yourself, probably through a misguided attempt at attaining some kind of penance through guilt. I would rather die than be helped by you, and it looks like I'm going to get my wish."

They sat there in a comfortable silence, neither feeling the need to talk again for a while. Eventually Seifer looked up at the Turk.

"So…that rescue isn't gonna happen, is it?"

Tseng shook his head minutely.

"No."

"There really is no way off of this Island, is there?"

"None that I can offer to you in time."

Seifer chuckled, growing ever weaker. "Time. It all comes back to time, doesn't it? I've ran out of it, and you're fighting against it."

"We're all fighting against time, Seifer."

"Some more than others."

Another period of silence.

"You aren't going to tell me the thing that you know and I don't, are you?" asked Tseng, and he did not feel any negative emotion within him to voice the thought. Things were like they were now, and there was nothing either of them could do about it.

Seifer shook his head. "Naw, I think I'll stick to what I said. If I've gotta die, then screw you all. You can come down with me."

Tseng nodded. It was only what he had been expecting. "That is your right."

"But I'll give you a clue."

Tseng looked down as Seifer looked up. Their eyes met.

"I made that portal myself."

Then he looked away, his eyes scared and startled.

"What was that?" he whispered. And then he vanished, and Tseng didn't know whether it was because the elastic had gone taut or because he had died.

And either way, he found that he didn't really care any more.

Something was wrong with Golbez, and he was stuck inside of his own mind, unable to do anything about it.

_A/N:_

_Hey everyone! Tyramir's internet is acting up, hence the slight delay in regular service. We should be good from now on, though._

_So there you go, Squall and everyone else's fate. Sorry about the fact I completely skipped Squall and everyone for a chapter, I forgot that it'd be three chapters for you all before you saw them again. I shouldn't be doing that again. In the near future, anyway.__  
_

_ We'd like to thank Brutal2003, Ogro, Alpha2Omega, Darth Necron, Samurai Ming, sckry, WolfenDragonfly, Count D'Ainiac and Yuleen75 for your reviews. And also, thanks to everyone else for reading!_


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